


Chasing Rainbows

by JennaLee



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Also kind of like The Family Man, Alternate Universe - It's a Wonderful Life Fusion, Anal Sex, Angst, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-06-26 16:24:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 86,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15666888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaLee/pseuds/JennaLee
Summary: Arin turns into a self-destructive wreck after his divorce. When he starts to rip apart his friendships one by one, a divine force intervenes to show him that everything he thinks he lost is right there in front of him.Through a glimpse into another universe, Arin gets to see just how much he could accomplish with Dan by his side. It's up to him to learn as much as he can.





	1. End of the Line

“What the fuck, Arin.”

Arin groans and rolls over, pushing his face into the pillow - no, the couch. He’d passed out on his couch. Again. The upholstery reeks of his own sweat.

Ross makes a lot of noise as he walks across the room. The floor is messy. Ross swears under his breath. “Is this how you’re gonna make yourself feel better? Going on drinking binges like you’re some frat boy?”

“Why the fuck did I give you a key,” Arin mumbles.

Ross sighs heavily. “Because we’re best friends, Arin. Despite the way you’ve been treating me and everyone else in your life, we’re still best friends. And this is what friends do for each other.” He stares at Arin as if waiting for some reaction or a response. When he gets nothing, he says, less gently, “Besides, I didn’t even need to use the key. You left your door open.”

“Oh.” Arin’s mouth is a fucking desert. He runs his tongue over his fuzzy teeth and grimaces.

“That’s all you have to say? Just, ‘oh’?”

Arin rolls onto his back again. “Just because I don’t have a wife anymore doesn’t mean you have to come over and act like a nagging bitch.”

Ross blinks once. His thin lips disappear. “Arin.”

“Seriously, man.” Arin pushes himself upright and nearly upchucks. “I’m allowed to be upset, okay? Butt the fuck out of my life.”

“No shit you’re allowed to be upset. Be upset. Fuckin’ cry all over yourself, then come over and hang with me and Holly and talk about it. Have a beer or two. But don’t ruin your entire life and everything you’ve worked for.”

“I can’t ruin what I don’t have.”

“Suzy was _not_ your whole life. You built a company. An Internet empire. And you’re the boss. You’re in a band, you just started your own touring company, you - ”

“Yeah, I don’t need you to summarize my life, thanks.” Arin staggers to his feet and pushes past Ross to get to the kitchen. There’s probably bottles of water in the fridge but Arin just sticks his mouth directly under the tap and blasts water down his throat. He guzzles until his stomach hurts, and then he tips his face forward to rinse off the grime and sweat. When he turns around, Ross is still standing there, tapping his foot.

“How much did you drink?”

Arin’s head is fucking _pounding_. He’s not used to drinking alcohol, so it doesn’t take a lot to get him fucked up. The pain makes him nastier than usual. “Why is that any of your business?”

“I’m fucking worried about you, okay? What did you expect? It’s like you turned into a completely different person overnight.”

“Yeah, well.” Arin doesn’t have a response to that. Mostly because he knows Ross is right. Arin’s not really an asshole, and there’s still parts of him that want to reach out for the help Ross is trying to give.

“Everyone’s worried about you, Arin.” Ross catches on, sensing Arin’s moment of doubt. “You’re going to hurt yourself, drinking this much. A drink or two is fine. Still weird, for you, but understandable.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

Ross stares. “Yeah. Yeah, Arin, it kind of is. This is a huge deal.”

“I’ve seen you drink more booze at work in a day than I have since Suzy left. Who the fuck are you to judge anyone else for drinking?”

“At least I fucking show up to work,” Ross shoots back, and he’s past angry now, moving toward fucking furious. Arin had struck a nerve.

“Pretty easy when you just sit around half the time dicking around on your laptop.”

“You know what?” Ross kicks an empty beer can across the room. “I don’t even know why I bothered checking on you. You’re obviously just hell bent on being an asshole. Why don’t you call me when your stupid mid-life crisis is over?”

“So you can dish it out but you can’t take it?” Arin fires back. “How’s Gameoverse going, Ross? Off hiatus yet? How many years has it been now? Eight, nine? Really seems like you‘re working your ass off, huh? In the fucking office I built for you, in the building I own, using equipment I bought for you and expecting me to voice every all of your shitty characters.”

The words resonate in the air, and Arin doesn’t mean a single fucking one of them but he can’t take them back. For a minute, he regrets it. Arin doesn’t want to hurt Ross, or anyone else. He just wants everyone to see him for what he really is. He’s built himself so far up, and it’s all a lie. His friends won’t let him go, won‘t let him back down. This is Arin’s last resort.

“Fuck you,” Ross spits. “Fuck you so hard, Arin, that was low.” 

“So why are you still here? Fucking get out, leave me alone, I told you I don’t want your help!” Arin half-shouts, and okay, bad idea. The pain is his head is like somebody going at him with a pickaxe. 

“You really need to figure your shit out, Arin.” Ross stomps to the door, his face set, and Arin can tell he’s holding back tears. “By the way, Gameoverse is coming along really great, and I had an animatic to show you yesterday. Not that you give a shit, because apparently you’ve been lying to me for years and think my show is dumb. But yeah, I was really excited. I missed dinner with Jared, who, by the way, is flying back to Seattle today, because I stayed late thinking maybe you’d actually show up to your recording session with Dan. He stayed until like, nine-thirty, by the way, so have fun explaining to him that you were too busy drinking your face off to do your damn job.”

“He’s not my boss” is all Arin has back, which is stupid, and makes Ross roll his eyes before he wrenches open the door and slams it behind him.

And Arin sags back against the counter, trying not to cry, which just makes his headache worse.

He thinks he should probably take a shower, and eat some food that didn’t come in a paper bag. Instead he stumbles back to the couch and throws himself onto it with a groan. His stomach feels like it’s filled with rocks. He throws his arm over his eyes to hide from the light and tries to get comfortable. 

Somehow, Arin manages to fall asleep.

He doesn’t get a chance to sleep off the pain. An hour or two later, his phone starts to ring. Arin had gotten into the habit of turning it off, but he’d forgotten after he’d Googled hangover cures. Some buried part of himself leaps to attention, screaming, _Suzy, it’s gonna be Suzy, she wants to come back_. Arin looks at the display, but instead of his wife - _ex-wife_ , he was going to have to get used to that term at some point - it’s Dan.

He debates for a few seconds, then picks up.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Dan sounds timid in a way that’s unlike him, and it sort of makes Arin want to puke. “How are you?”

Arin looks around at his filthy living room, the fast food cartons on the coffee table, the dying Boston fern in the corner. “Fine.”

“Still feeling sick?”

“Yeah, a little. Who told you I was sick?”

“Ross.” 

Yeah, great, so Ross had already talked shit far and wide. Wasn’t that what Arin wanted, though? 

Dan goes on to fill Arin’s silence. “Yeah, he said he saw you. I asked him if he knew where you were, since you didn’t, um, show up today.”

“Show up to what?” The recording session had been yesterday.

“I thought you were going to come over to Brian’s place with me. You know, to start thinking about the next tour.”

“Oh. Yeah, that sounds familiar.” Arin had fired his assistant. Nobody keeps a planner for him anymore.

“I, um, tried to call you a few times.”

“My phone was off.”

“Right.” Dan stays silent for a while, maybe waiting for Arin to elaborate. When he gets nothing, he goes on. “You wanna re-schedule?”

Being a dick to Dan is a lot harder than it might appear. Arin counts five beats of his heart and then sighs. “Not really, Dan.”

“That’s okay,” Dan says, too quickly. “I can fill you in after? I can send you an email if you don’t want to talk.”

“I don’t know if that’s really necessary.”

There’s a long silence. Arin can hear Dan breathing. “What do you mean,” Dan finally asks, flatly.

“I mean I don’t think we should do the Starbomb tour.” 

“Arin,” Dan starts, already sounding hurt instead of mad, which is harder for Arin to handle. “Okay, hey, I know you’re not in a good place, but maybe we can just do a couple shows. Major cities. Or split it into two, with a big break in between. We can work around this, okay?”

“I don’t really know if I want to do Starbomb at all.”

Dan stays dead silent for a beat. “What?”

“Three albums is plenty. We struggled enough writing the last one. Why don’t we just, you know. Call it quits.”

“What the hell, Arin.”

Arin closes his eyes and waits.

“You’re serious.” Dan is stunned. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“I didn‘t think you cared that much anyway,” Arin mutters.

Dan says “What the hell” again, and then there’s a burst of static and a flurry of muffled conversation. 

Then there’s Brian’s voice, clear as day, in the background. “Arin, you can do whatever you want with your life, and if you want to back out of the band, we’re not stopping you. But maybe we should talk in person.”

Dan’s still holding the phone. Arin can tell, because he can hear Dan’s ragged breathing. “Are you coming to work tomorrow, Arin?”

“Maybe,” Arin hedges.

“Maybe?”

“Uh, well.” Arin can’t think of an excuse. Dan’s making him feel guilty without really doing anything at all. Arguing with Ross was different. Ross was his brother, and you could yell at your brother and still hang out with him a month later. Dan was different. Talking to Dan just makes him think of Dan’s pure heart, his natural goodness and selflessness, the things that came so easy to him that Arin found so difficult. Like loving himself, constantly improving himself, inspiring goodness in others without really trying at all. And he knows that if he sees Dan, it’ll be like holding a magnifying mirror up to all of Arin’s flaws and all the ways he’d failed Dan and his other friends, not to mention his employees.

And Dan just drives Arin’s spike of guilt home by saying, in a soft voice, “Well, I really hope that I get to see you. I missed you yesterday.”

 _Why_? Arin wonders. He’d been acting like a fucking dick for weeks now. What redeeming qualities could Dan the eternal optimist see left in him? _I’m sorry_ is what he should say, what he wants to say, but that just feels like a lie. Dan might make the mistake of thinking Arin was still a good person. The memory of what he’d said to Ross prickles in Arin’s mind. So instead Arin says, “Uh, maybe I’ll be in late.”

“Okay.” Dan grasps at that. Brian’s talking to him, probably lowering his expectations. Arin can’t quite make it out. “Okay,” Dan says again, still hopefully. “We’ll talk about this. Maybe you’re right. Maybe the tour is a bad idea right now.”

 _No shit._ But being sarcastic to Dan is like kicking a puppy, and Arin can’t bring himself to do it. “Yeah, so. See you, later sometime.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

“Take care of yourself, Arin.”

“Yeah.”

Dan hesitates, then adds, “I love you, man.”

Arin feels that like a kick to the chest. He senses that Dan had meant to leave off the casual modifier, but backed out at the last second. Arin’s not sure what that means. Maybe nothing.

Something is pulling at Arin’s brain, and suddenly he’s hit with a wave of regret and urgency, a weird gut feeling that he should _do_ something, or maybe that he’d forgotten to do something. 

“Arin? Are you there?”

“Yeah,” Arin says, his voice strangely thick. “I gotta go. See you.”

He disconnects the call before the regret catches up to him entirely. Then he leans back, just breathing, staring into nothing.

God, what the fuck was he doing?

Arin gets up and wanders aimlessly through the big empty house, trying to get rid of the vague feeling that something is wrong. It’s like - Arin grasps for a metaphor - that feeling he gets when he’s at the airport at 2 AM and stumbles into a completely empty bathroom or corridor. Or back home in Florida, at night, the quiet residential streets empty and all sounds of traffic in the distance muffled by the blanket of humidity and vegetation. The street lights turning the edges of the swamp to black pits. There’s a word for that, he thinks - the sense of anticipation mingled with being somewhere he feels he shouldn’t. Abandoned places where everyone has gone on ahead without him.

Arin stops waxing poetic when his queasy stomach sends up a warning cry that has him scrambling for the bathroom. By the time he’s done throwing up, the weird feeling is gone. His stomach actually feels almost normal.

He curls up back in his nest of throw pillows and closes his eyes. The silence grates, so he fumbles around on his phone until he winds up playing an old episode of Game Grumps. It’s one of the Mario Party’s, from four years or so ago. They both sound so goddamn happy. Arin had been happy then. He’d been happy for a long time, and even his brushes with anxiety and depression weren’t really that bad in retrospect. 

And now - now he doesn’t know what to do. It wasn’t just that he was upset. He was just. Lost. And he had absolutely no reason to find himself again. How the fuck was he supposed to start over? He’d been with her for more than half his fucking life.

And Suzy hadn’t called. She said she would, when her flight landed in Florida. They’d both been pretty good at the last goodbye. He hadn’t cried, but she had. He had hugged her and she went stiff but hugged him back. And she hadn’t called. 

Arin closes his eyes and tries to follow what Dan is saying in the episode. He stays like that until he’s gone through the entire series run, and then his phone’s battery conks out. The silence starts to ache again, so Arin throws his arm over his eyes and tries to sleep.

*

They’re all walking on eggshells around him at work.

Arin actually comes into the office at ten, showered and dressed, looking better than he feels. He’s wearing his stupid douchey harem pants because his jeans are too tight. Turns out that six weeks of daily Wendy’s wasn’t the best diet plan.

Matt and Ryan are both startled into silence when they see Arin. Ryan manages a normal-sounding “Hey” and Arin returns it, pretending not to notice the two of them immediately bending forward to discuss Arin’s limited attendance and unexpected return.

There’s tons of shit to do and Arin has no idea where to start. He always knew his assistant did a fucking fantastic job, and that Suzy helped bring order to his life and to his work, but maybe he wasn’t prepared for just how much shit could get messed up in just a few weeks. Arin’s inbox is full and their newest upload on Game Grumps was the third solo Dan episode, and the ones being edited actually feature Ross. Ross, who was trying his hardest to focus on his own work, and who had specifically expressed to Arin that he didn’t want to do Let’s Plays anymore.

Ross is already here, in his office. He’d had the door open. When he saw Arin, his face darkened, and he’d slammed his door hard enough to make the building shake. 

Arin sighs and texts Dan.

_You wanna record today?_

Dan’s answer comes faster than he expected. _Yeah man, sure._

Over-careful, forced casual. Arin can live with that. _Cool. I’m already here. Whenever you want is good._

Dan shows up a scant thirty minutes later, with a tentative smile. Arin sets up the equipment and grabs a random silly fighter game, something good for two or three episodes. Dan doesn’t even ask questions, just takes the controller and sits on the couch, avoiding direct eye contact with Arin. Though when Arin sits down, he feels Dan lean into him, like he wants to comfort Arin without making a big deal about it. It’s really the only thing that lets Arin loosen up enough to talk like a normal human being, making it sound like he’s the same old big dumb goofy Egoraptor, loud and grumpy as ever. 

He makes out just fine until Dan starts talking about the latest Starbomb album, how excited he is that it’s doing so well and how he can’t wait to show the fans some of the stuff Brian’s already thought up for the next album. As soon as Arin goes quiet, Dan can tell he’s fucked up, and starts babbling to cover up his mistake. It’s too late though, and Arin starts to pick.

“Are you and Brian going to just go on as a duo?” he asks. “Won’t that be too much like NSP?”

Dan looks at him, startled. “I - ” he starts, then falters. “I sort of thought that, you didn’t mean it.”

“You think I’d joke about something like that?”

“Well, um.” Dan lets the controller fall into his lap. “I guess not? But I thought, you coming in today, it was…you know. We agreed that we’d talk about it before making any decisions.”

“Actually, Brian said that. I didn’t make any promises.”

“So what? Are you just gonna totally quit?”

“I thought I already did.”

Dan’s quiet for a long time. Arin hopes he’s not crying. His heart feels cold and black and shrivelled but he might just fall apart if he sees Dan crying. 

“Arin,” he finally says. “I…okay, I’m disappointed, but…okay. We can work through this, right? You’re right, we had three great albums, and it’s been amazing, but if you’re not feeling it any more - well shit. We can’t do Starbomb without you. We can’t and we wouldn’t even if we could.”

“You and Brian always did ninety percent of the writing and composition.”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

“Not really,” Arin shrugs. “I just did some shitty vocals.”

“You know you did more than that.”

Arin just shrugs again. “I think you should keep going with it. With music in general. You’re so talented, like way beyond the limits of what you can do with a band called Ninja Sex Party.”

“Arin, that’s - that’s very flattering, dude, but I’m okay. I’m happy with what we do. I love what we do.”

There’s another long silence, until Arin says, “You know, if Game Grumps ever ends, you won’t be in any trouble.”

“What?”

“You’re the favourite. You could go solo. Or work with Ross and Brian.”

“Arin, what the fuck are you saying?”

Arin doesn’t even know. There’s a weird buzzing in his head and his gut is churning. “I’m just saying that maybe I don’t know if Game Grumps is gonna go on much longer.”

“You’re not joking,” Dan says slowly. “I fucking know you and I know when you’re not joking. Jesus goddamn Christ, Arin.”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t joke about this.”

Dan shoves his hands into his hair. “This is your channel. This is your dream. I’m just your sidekick, and you’re the fucking superhero, how can you tell me that you don’t want to do this anymore?”

“I’m a pretty shitty superhero.” Arin laughs and it sounds all ugly and wrong. “Super Divorce Man. Shitty Relationship Man.”

“Why are you doing this?” Dan asks helplessly. “Fuck, Arin, I know it’s gotta be rough, but you can’t just - destroy yourself like this!”

“It’s not just that it’s rough, okay?” Nobody’s fucking getting it. “It’s that there’s no _point_ in doing any of this shit. What’s the point in pretending anymore? I’m a big fat fucking loser and I can’t get anything right.”

“Arin, you’re fucking amazing, okay,” Dan chokes out. “You’ve always been amazing, you - You’re still so young, and you’ve done so much, worked so hard - ”

“It was all Suzy. She held me together, Dan. But it was more than that. She gave me purpose. I was nothing - I was just some weird geek who couldn’t even finish high school, but then there was her, and everything I did - it was all from Suze, Dan.”

“Oh, Arin,” Dan says softly. “God, I know it must be hell for you.”

Arin can’t take it. He can’t take Dan taking all this abuse from him and putting up with it. _He’s better than this. He should know he’s better than me._ “What the hell do you know? Have you ever gotten a girl to hang around for more than like, a year?”

Once upon a time that might not have hurt Dan, but things were different now. Dan was different. Dan had been confiding to Arin for a while now that he was sick of dating, sick of being a bachelor, that he wanted someone to share his life with. Someone stable. That’s why Arin’s words make him flinch. “You don’t have to be a dick to me, Arin. I’m only trying to help you.”

“Just like Ross, right,” Arin mutters. “Everyone seems to think that six weeks is enough time to get over the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. And everyone wants to be my shrink. Well guess what, Dan, I don’t need you to tell me how fucked up I am. And I don’t need you to tell me that I’m some big genius hero for making a stupid Let’s Play channel. Fuck, it was dumb when we first thought of it, and the only thing that fans watch it now for is you.”

“You know that’s not true.” Dan sounds like he’s pleading. “Millions of people love you and admire you.”

“It’s just fucking video games. Fuck. Dan, I meant it, you’re talented as hell. Don’t let me hold you back. I’m a ship that’s sinking and you don’t need to go down with me.”

Dan gets up. “I can’t listen to this. God, I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

Arin follows at a distance, out the door and into the main space. Heads are turning. “You’re the one that wanted to make me talk, dude. I didn’t want to tell you right away.”

“You make it sound like you already decided!” Dan’s cracked voice draws Brian, who stares in shock at Dan and then turns cold eyes at Arin. Arin’s seen Brian be protective of Dan before, but never from Arin.

“It’s no big deal,” Arin says. “I’ll do a few more, finish a few series. Then we’ll wrap it up.”

Brian says, quietly, “Arin, go home. You’re not in your right mind.”

That lights Arin’s fuse. “Why don’t you go home, Brian? I fucking employ you. You don’t tell _me_ to go home.” 

“He’s just trying to help!” Dan is angry, too. Brian and Dan had always been close, closer than Arin and Dan, no matter how much Dan proclaimed to love them equally. When it came down to it, Dan came to Brian’s defence first. 

Arin isn’t sure what he’s trying to prove to himself.

“I’ll leave if you want me to,” Brian says, and he can afford to be calm, because he has a wife and a child, and his heart hadn’t been ripped out of his chest and stomped on.

“No,” Arin mutters, wiping the back of his mouth. “You’re right. I’m the asshole.”

“Arin - ”

“You should run the channel. You’d be better at it than me.” Arin wants to laugh, because that should be obvious. Arin’s a high school dropout. Brian’s a fucking Ph.D with an extensive background in comedy and a wife that taught improv. If anyone should be good at running a business, managing a family, and being funny, it was Brian.

Everyone is staring at him now, and nobody knows what to say. Even Ross is standing in the doorway to his office, mouth open.

Arin had caused a sufficient scene. Now that they know he’s a stupid prick maybe they’ll be more eager to walk away from him. Or maybe he’s the one who should walk away. Yeah. That sounds right.

He turns and walks out of the building, leaving a stunned silence behind him.

Arin’s heart is pounding like crazy. He’s sweating, too, an all over cold sweat like he’d been having night terrors. He doesn’t realize he’s being chased until he hears Dan shout.

“Arin, wait!”

Arin turns, and Dan gets a half-hopeful light in his eyes, like Arin was going to apologize and hug him and be normal again. Instead Arin digs in his pocket, pulls out his keyring, and separates his work set from the rest of them. The Grump space front door, the filing cabinet, the employee records. He tosses them all to Dan, who misses and has to stoop.

“Just in case. I don’t know when I’ll be back to take care of this shit.”

“Arin,” Dan says as he scrambles on the ground. “Arin, _please_ don’t do this.” He looks up at Arin, his face already crumpling, and for a split second Arin’s entire world jerks beneath his feet as his broken heart gives one wistful little throb. 

But the feeling is gone as quick as it comes. 

Arin gets in his car and pulls away.


	2. Jamais Vu

So it turns out that Arin is sort of like King Midas, except everything he touches turns to shit.

He spends several days moping and ignoring all the phone calls and piles of texts. Some day, eventually, he’s going to have to man the fuck up and answer them. There’s a lot of things that he actually has to do, legally, as the boss of a company that employs a bunch of people. The simplest thing to do would be to sign everything over to Brian. The hard thing to do would be to go back and apologize. 

Old Arin would have apologized. Old Arin would have never walked out in the first place, would have never hurled insults at his best friends, would never be fighting off another hangover more than halfway through the day.

The thing is, Old Arin isn’t around much anymore. Not since the day that Suzy had given him her wedding ring and said, generously, that since he bought it, it was his to keep. 

She was good about that, too. The money thing. Arin bought out her share of their house and they didn’t have to fight, not about that. The cats were with him, for now, but only because neither of them could bear to think about stowing them beneath a plane. It’s nice to have at least some form of company in his big empty house. 

On the third day of doing fuck all, Arin’s food situation is becoming dire. The fridge is empty and he’s actually sick of fast food burgers. 

And so Arin’s in the grocery store, trying to buy things that are green and good for his body, when he sees him for the first time.

The guy had been following him for a while. Arin had been aware of it. Sometimes he gets that, from fans, but this guy doesn’t look like a Game Grumps fan. He’s too neat and clean and pressed, like somebody cut him out of a magazine, and his hair looks like he’d parted it with a razor. He looks totally at ease, just a part of the background, even though it doesn’t look like he’s shopping. It looks more like he’s just waiting for Arin to finish. 

Arin doesn’t feel any weird vibes or warning signs, though, and it’s a busy area. He lugs his stuff to the cash register, pays for his food and steps out into the parking lot. When he glances behind him, the guy doesn’t seem to be following. But then he rounds the corner and starts to step off the curb and suddenly he’s there.

“Help you with that.” 

“Sure, dude, thanks.” Arin had been struggling under the weight of a case of LaCroix in one arm while he tried to hold all his bags with the other. He hadn’t worked out in six weeks and his arms aren’t what they used to be. He sets the case down, and the guy leans in for it. Arin gets a good look at his face and flinches.

It looks like he’s been Photoshopped, badly, from one picture onto the background of another. There’s something weirdly flat about the shape of him, the way he’s moving. His posture is stiff as a board and he gives off the scent of something that reminds Arin of home.

And suddenly he gets blindsided by a wave of - lostness. This is the same Whole Foods he’s gone to at least once a month for the past four years but suddenly it’s like he doesn’t recognize anything. Had the back of the parking lot always looked like this? Had those palm trees always been there in the boulevard? Jesus Christ, of course they must have been, but - fuck, what the hell was this? 

_There’s a word for this,_ Arin thinks, vaguely. _Not a word, a phrase._

“Something wrong, Arin?”

Arin blinks. “Uh.”

“Oh, sorry.” The guy grins at him. “Yeah, I know who you are.”

“Cool. It’s always nice to meet fans.” Arin sounds mechanical, but at least he doesn’t sound mean. He’s actually trying to be nice, because as weird as this interaction is, he’s still not really getting a sense of danger. Even though he’s pretty sure this is how a lot of serial killers operate. 

“Fans,” the guy muses. Arin can’t tell how old he is. He could be twenty-five or fifty. His hair is a little too bright to be real. “Fans of your Internet show, your band. Or do you have a band anymore?”

“What?” Had Dan or Brian tweeted out that Arin left? It’s not like them to gossip. Maybe it was Ross? But that’s not right either. Ross isn’t a bad guy, and he’s not stupid. He’s professional when it matters.

“Just wondering,” the guy says lightly. “And it’s jamais vu.”

“Uh, pardon?”

“The phrase you were trying to think of. Jamais vu.” He straightens his lapels, his movements precise and almost too quick to follow. “The sense of seeing something for the first time, despite knowing that you’ve seen it or experienced it before.” He pauses. “Also, there’s presque vu. That’s when you know that you know something and can’t quite recall it. Which might make more sense in your situation. But hey. No matter. We have bigger fish to fry, don’t we?”

“Uh, okay.” Arin starts to walk a little faster. This weirdo can take his LaCroix and fuck off for all he cares. There’s finally a trickle of fear seeping down his spine and he doesn’t know if he wants to be alone out here anymore. All he can think on repeat is _how did he know? How did he know? How did he -_

“Well, it’s easier when you’re broadcasting like that.” The guy is in front of him again, somehow, what the fuck? “And normally, I’m a _lot_ further away from you, so no, I don’t read your mind. I haven’t actually been down here to see you in oh…seven years or so.”

This is getting weird. Arin’s freaked out to the point of having forgotten all the shit with Dan and Ross and even the break-up with Suzy. “I’ve never seen you before in my life,” he says, trying not to sound scared or overly aggressive. Just, standing his ground. “And I think you need to go. I’ll call the cops, man, I’m not kidding.”

“Ouch.” The guy puts a hand to his chest. “That hurts, Arin. After all I’ve done for you.”

“I don’t know you,” Arin says again, and fumbles his phone out of his pocket just in case. He’s still walking, but for some reason his car doesn’t seem any closer than it did two minutes ago. Which is fucked up, because the back part of this lot takes maybe thirty seconds to cross on foot.

“Stubborn as ever,” the guy says, but he’s smiling. “But I’ve always liked you. You’re pretty low maintenance, you know? You’ve taken a lot of the right turns on your own. You’ve just needed a few little pushes now and again. This is the first time I’ve ever had to pull some Extreme Makeover: Life Edition shit.”

“What - ”

“We’re running out of time.” The guy’s hand pops into one of his pockets and he pulls out an old-fashioned watch. It’s heavy and gold and Arin can tell just from looking at it that it’s not just made to look old fashioned - it’s an antique, and probably expensive as all fuck. What’s weirder is that Arin’s never known anyone with a pocket watch before, but this one looks familiar. 

“Nice, isn’t it?” The stranger turns it upside down and looks at the back. To Arin, it looks blank, but the guy seems to be reading from it. “Looks like you’ll have everything you need when you get there. Good. I like the easy jobs.” 

“I have to go,” Arin manages. “Get out of here and don’t talk to me again.”

“No can do, Arin, you’re stuck with me. But don’t worry too much. I’m pretty sure I won’t have to come back again.”

This time Arin says nothing. His legs feel wobbly and light, like they’re filled with bubbles. He can’t feel his hands. The parking lot is fading around the edges, something Arin’s only experienced once when he’d passed out. Oddly enough, the guy is becoming sharper, realer, and soon it’s everything else that looks like a fake magazine picture, all shiny and blurred. It looks like a camera that just figured out how to focus on the subject and not the background.

“It’s up to you from here on out.” He spins the watch around his finger by the chain. “Just play along. And have a little faith, Arin. It’s going to be okay.”

“Have a little faith in what?”

“Yourself. Try it out, it won’t hurt.”

Arin looks down at himself and he’s fading too, fading like everything else except the stranger. There’s an aura around him now like he’s glowing. Arin tries to open his mouth and can’t. He has no mouth. He has no form. That should terrify him worse than anything, but somehow, Arin feels oddly at peace. He can still see, still sense, and for a single glorious instant Arin sees the world spread out before him, a great golden net covered in brilliant clusters of stars, everything connected to each other.

And then it’s gone and Arin is flat on his back, on the floor, in a room he doesn’t recognize at all.

For a second he can’t breathe. 

And then he sits up sharply, because holy fuck, what if he wandered into somebody else’s fucking house while drunk off his ass? What if he has, the thing hardcore alcoholics get, when they’re in withdrawal and start hallucinating? 

But that doesn’t make sense, because he feels fine physically. Better than fine, actually. He feels about fifteen pounds lighter and a lot less disgusting. His hair is silky and clean. Arin runs his fingers through it, and there’s something off about it, something - he hadn’t had a haircut in a while, sure, but had it really been this far past his chin? And there’s more differences, more than he can count or concentrate on, but what the fuck is he doing thinking about his hair when he’s probably about to be shot by some startled homeowner, or at the very least arrested?

Arin springs to his feet. The memories of the guy in the parking lot suddenly come back to him, but it feels like something that happened to him a lifetime ago. He already can’t recall the guy’s face. What the fuck had he done? Had he - drugged Arin, somehow, or stuck him with a tranquilizer dart? It seems ludicrous, but so does waking up in this house feeling like a different fucking person. 

Arin runs to the door, which stops him dead in his tracks again because he’d gone out for groceries after a _really_ late lunch, probably around four-thirty in the afternoon, but now it’s the crack of dawn. Literally. The sky is that dusty sort of blue that means the sun had just inched up past the horizon. The time difference jars him more than realizing that he definitely doesn’t know where he is. He’s never been in this neighbourhood before, at least not beyond maybe driving through it once or twice.

He does, however, recognize the car parked out front as his.

“What the fuck,” Arin says out loud. He presses his face to the glass. “What the _fuck._ I didn’t drive here.” He sure as fuck didn’t, because his car is still in the shop. Arin presses his hands to the sides of his head and tries to remember how to breathe. 

Without really thinking about it, he backs up, as if he can run away from all of this if he just doesn’t look at it. This plan fails spectacularly when he nearly trips over something warm and furry that ends up being an affronted-looking grey tabby cat, who shoots him a glare before zipping up the staircase. 

Arin curses under his breath and keeps hurrying toward the back of the house, not really knowing what his goal is other than to try and find something that would explain at least half of this shit. This house is nice, maybe a little bigger than his own, and clearly decorated by a professional. The kitchen is very Asian inspired, with stark white walls, black ash wood cabinets, and red accent colours in the chair cushions and wall décor. Arin tries not to look but he sees his favourite brand of cereal on the counter and the writing on the note stuck to the fridge looks like his own writing. He gets to the back of the house, which has gorgeous big windows and a view of the backyard with a pool, and then he hears a loud knock from the back door.

Arin nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Avon calling,” a voice calls, and Arin almost has a second heart attack when he sees the face peeking through the little window at the top of the door. 

He flings the door open. “You!”

“Me,” the guy from the Whole Foods parking lot agrees, looking totally unconcerned. “So I forgot something.”

“Where am I?” Arin demands instead, focusing all of his confusion into anger. “What the fuck did you do? Who are you?”

“First question.” The guy snaps his fingers. “You’re at your house. Well, one of your houses.”

“I only have one fucking house!”

“From the perspective of one dimension, sure. You, singular, in each universe, has one house. I mean, there’s a couple where you have two, but, semantics. You’re at what is your house in this universe.”

“I’m having a psychotic break,” Arin decides after processing that a few times. “You’re not real, this isn’t real, and this isn’t a fucking episode of Star Trek, okay.”

“No,” the guy agrees. “It’s more like - okay, did you ever see that one Nicolas Cage movie?”

“Unless it’s the one where he punches the woman in the bear suit, I don’t even fucking know.” Arin’s brain feels like scrambled eggs. “Just, please. Either - help me or get the fuck out so I can run away, or lay down somewhere and try to wake up.”

“I’m nothing if not helpful.” The stranger produces a bouquet of long-stemmed crimson roses from behind his back and thrusts them into Arin’s arms. “I sort of forgot what date I was sending you to. You won’t learn much unless you’re a little prepared. Oh, and - ” The roses are followed by a small wrapped box, all in blue, the ribbon immaculate. “You’ll need this too.” He reaches out and slips it into the pocket of Arin’s jacket. “Don’t lose that.”

“Why the fuck would I need roses?” Arin splutters, staring at them like they might bite. 

“It’ll make sense later. Listen, I’d love to hang around, but my time down here is very limited, okay? Just try to calm down. Explore your house a little. Relax. I told you, have faith.”

“How can I fucking relax?” Arin shouts at him, and he’s good and scared now. This is way too real to be a hallucination. And now he’s starting to think this guy looks weirdly familiar. Like they’d met before, but a long time ago.

“You could stop yelling,” the guy offers. “That would probably be a good start.” 

Arin’s caught off guard. Next to the stranger’s absolute calm, Arin looks like the bad guy. But, incredibly, its helping him swallow the bullshit. 

The guy is studying Arin keenly. “You’re starting to believe me now, aren’t you?”

“Yes! No, fuck, I don’t know! Whatever you did, just - please, undo it. Send me back. Make this stop. Wherever I am, I don’t want to be here!”

“Sometimes, Arin, I don’t think you know what you want. Actually, it’s why I came in the first place.”

“Wait!” Arin chases after the stranger as he starts to walk down the steps. But he’s too slow, and his quarry disappears behind a trellis covered in pretty blue morning glory flowers. By the time Arin rounds the corner, he’s gone. “Fuck!”

He stands there like an idiot, staring at the swirling waters of the pool and inhaling the smells of the hydrangeas and chlorine and that elusive fresh smell of dawn. It takes him a while to think that maybe he should take the weird guy’s advice and go back inside to explore. 

What the fuck was it that he said - that Arin was in another universe? Well, he reasons, it’s not as farfetched as thinking he’d developed temporary amnesia and broke into somebody’s house and was having continuous hallucinations of some guy that kidnapped him and then brought him roses and disappeared. Although _some guy_ wasn’t really an accurate description. Some part of Arin knows that he wasn’t really a _guy_ at all. Just a pretty good imitation of one. 

But that raises even more questions than Arin wants to answer. It’s enough to try to swallow that he’s in a different universe. But when he wanders back into the house, and takes note again of the Asian themes and his own familiar belongings, it really starts to drive it home. 

There’s his pink Ripndip hoodie by the door. The framed picture of his parents on their second honeymoon on the wall. His laptop on the coffee table in the living room, with the tiny Y-shaped crack creeping up the bottom of the screen. He opens the front closet, and sees a bunch of sandals. Not just the same kinds of sandals, but _his_ sandals, worn out in the exact same places, his favourite black pair with the big scruff on the leather strap. 

It’s kind of funny to see just one layer of shoes, rather than six shelves stuffed full with Suzy’s platform heels and endless shoes still in boxes. She’d left a lot behind, with the intention of coming back for it later once things calmed down a bit. Someday Arin would have to go through it all, collect it in one room for her. There are no feminine shoes in here at all unless he counted the pair of pink fluffy slip-on house shoes, which, upon examination, are definitely Arin’s. The only things that seem entirely out of place are two pairs of gigantic size twenty sneakers, both in different states of shabbiness, well worn and well loved. If he didn’t know better, he could swear that he knows who those belong to.

Arin closes the closet door and decides to brave the stairs next. There’s a whole upper level to explore, and probably one of the bedrooms is his. _If you’re believing that weirdo’s story,_ he adds in his head, like he’s trying to justify his own belief in the impossible. 

It smells weird in here, he decides. It kind of smells like his own house, but it also kind of smells like the Grump space too. Or, more specifically, the Grump room. He can’t quite define or label what it is he’s smelling, but it’s definitely very familiar. As he makes his way down the hallway, he sees that most of the doors are wide open. There’s the bathroom, what looks like an office - complete with Arin’s own desk and handmade kanji sign - and what might be a guest bedroom, too stark clean to be lived in. The only door that’s not open is at the end of the hall. 

_Master bedroom_ , Arin thinks. He walks down the hall and pushes the door open. 

Nothing stands out at first. It’s a nice room. Plush California king four-poster bed, all in white and red, unmade. A big gorgeous bay window, the twin to the one in the living room, with the wide windowsill done up like a little bench. It’s gorgeous and charming, and the view from the window with the mountains in the distance catches Arin’s eye. It takes a while for him to focus on the bed again and realize that it’s not just unmade. There’s a big lump on the left side. A huge blanket cocoon.

There’s someone in the bed. There’s definitely someone in the bed.

His heart in his throat, Arin steps closer until he sees the person’s hair, their face.

And time stops, because the person in the bed is Dan fucking Avidan. 

Maybe Arin makes a noise, probably a terrified whimper since _what the fuck_ , because Dan stirs and starts to emerge from the cocoon. One bare arm sticks out and rubs at his eyes, and when he stretches his legs Arin can see he’s not wearing pants either. And then he’s blinking up at Arin from a cloud of curly brown hair, his eyes sleepy and smiley. He doesn’t look scared, or freaked out, or out of place at all.

“Dan,” Arin manages to say without falling over. “What…what are you doing?”

Dan makes a face at him. “What are _you_ doing?” he teases back, like this is an everyday occurrence. 

“Uh,” Arin gropes wildly for something to say. “I was going to the bathroom?”

“Why did that require getting dressed?” Dan laughs, and shakes his head. “Weirdo.”

Arin stands there uncertainly, watching Dan, entranced by how relaxed and happy he looks. He needs to say something else. “I, um, went outside. To watch, the sunrise?”

“The sunrise?” Dan blinks.

Yeah, that sounded dumb, but Arin’s stuck with it now. “Uh, yeah.”

“Oh, Arin.” Dan shakes his head, but he’s still smiling. “Get back in bed, you damn sap. It’s like, the ass crack of dawn.” And speaking of ass cracks, when Dan peels the blanket back, Arin catches a glimpse of the long lean line of his body, and yeah, Dan’s completely naked. He’s naked in what Arin was told was his bed.

“Arin,” Dan grumbles. “I’m cold, hurry up.”

Arin doesn’t know what else to do. He sits on the edge of the bed, and stares up at the ceiling as he slowly lays his body back. 

Beside him, Dan stirs again, and suddenly he’s spooning up against Arin’s side and wrapping the blanket over him too. 

“Happy anniversary, baby girl,” Dan says, all soft and sultry, and before Arin can think, Dan’s lips are on his neck, kissing Arin just beneath his jaw. 

“Dan,” Arin gets out, and he ends up sounding breathy.

“Mmh,” is what he gets back, and then Dan props himself up and presses his mouth to Arin’s.

That’s what breaks him, really. Arin can handle a lot but he can’t handle this, can’t handle Dan Avidan naked, cuddling up to him and kissing him, morning breath and all.

Arin breaks the kiss and backs off so hard that he falls right off the fucking bed.

“Arin? Jesus, Arin, are you okay?”

“No,” he manages from the floor. “I think I’m pretty fucking far from okay.” His wedding band is back on his finger, but it’s different, it’s not sterling silver but white gold, with a tiny inlaid row of pink diamonds. It’s beautiful, but it’s not his, it can’t be his.

And then Dan’s reaching over the edge of the bed, and Arin spots a matching band on Dan’s finger, with sapphires in place of the pink stones. 

Arin’s brain stutters to a complete stop. 

“Arin?” Dan sounds worried. “Arin, hey, talk to me. You’re scaring me.”

Arin shoves himself to his feet, ignoring Dan’s increasingly panicked cries of his name, and starts to run. 

He doesn’t know where he’s going, and it’s sheer luck that he spots a set of keys hanging from a hook by the door on his way down the stairs, and more luck that they’re his. His Mini Cooper is in the driveway and it’s all Arin can think about. He has to _go_ , has to drive as far as he fucking can or maybe try to find his real house, or maybe a psychiatric hospital. 

“Arin, wait!” Dan’s followed him as far as the landing. He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears. “Arin!” 

Here was something Arin actually remembers the word for. This right here is déjà vu. Arin running away like a coward, with Dan chasing him. 

But he can’t handle it, he fucking can’t, not on top of all the Twilight Zone shit. Arin slams the front door, hurls himself into his car, and peels away as fast as he can.


	3. Twilight Zone

Arin’s phone goes off three times as he’s having a near panic attack in the parking lot of a McDonalds at six forty-five in the morning.

Seeing Dan calling him doesn’t exactly calm him down. Neither does seeing his iPhone in a case he remembers looking at, but not purchasing, at the Apple store some time ago. Or that the background on said phone is a picture of Dan curled up and dead asleep on the couch in the house he’d just fled from. 

Arin would feel more guilty about upsetting Twilight Zone Dan, but he’s just a little fucking distracted right now. The blond streak in his hair is gone. That was pretty fucked. Also, he’s somehow on Sunset Boulevard, way out in West Hollywood, which is at least an hour’s drive from where his actual house is. He doesn’t even know where the fuck he lives.

He needs help. God, he needs some fucking help. A little sanity, someone to get him through this, because Arin can’t do this on his own. 

It can’t be Dan. Calling Dan back seems like a very bad idea right now. Arin swipes through his contacts, ninety-five percent of them familiar, wondering if he should call his parents or maybe even Suzy, or -

 _Ross._

Any lingering bad feelings from their last encounter are gone. Ross can help him. This is Ross - the man he’d known almost as long as Suzy - one of his best friends on the planet. Ross exists here, and maybe he’s still the same. He has to be. 

Ross picks up on the first ring, despite the fact that he normally doesn’t wake up for another four hours at least. That’s not a good sign. Neither is his flustered voice when he says, “Arin?”

“Yeah. Hi.”

“Are you okay?” 

“Uh, yeah. Close enough, I guess.” Arin kind of wants to cry, and he kind of wants to laugh.

“What the hell does that mean? Where are you?”

“Why?”

“Dan called me twice. Woke me up. He said you freaked out and just ran out on him. What the hell?”

“Yeah,” Arin says again, like an idiot. “I kind of, maybe, yeah, I did.”

“Did you have a fight? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

Arin hears the edge to Ross’s voice and guesses that Ross is torn between frustration and deeper concern. He‘s not getting that Arin isn’t being cagey or sulky or difficult on purpose. He pushes a hand through his hair. “Ross, I - I don’t know where I am. I don‘t know what’s happening to me.”

“What the fuck. Did you drive?”

“Yeah.”

“So where are you? Like right now. Where are you parked.”

“McDonalds.” The urge to laugh bubbles up again and Arin clamps down on it.

“Is there any reason you left Dan to go to McDonalds for breakfast?” 

“I can explain,” Arin tries, stalling for time. “Something’s really, really wrong. I need your help.”

“Jesus, Arin, are you like, physically okay?”

“I think so?” Arin can’t hold it back anymore. He starts to laugh, and then he can’t stop. Ross has to shout his name before he manages to stifle the giggles, and then he says, “Ross. Can you please just. Come get me. Come here.”

“Okay,” Ross says, sounding cautious and worried and slightly terrified. “Which McDonalds?”

Arin looks around. “Uh. You know the one by The Griddle?” 

“I’ll be there in like, ten minutes. Don’t go anywhere. Sit tight.”

Arin can do that. He can. “Sure.”

The call ends and Arin’s left alone with his mounting hysteria. He fights it as best as he can and leans forward, his head pressed to the steering wheel.

He doesn’t recognize Ross’s car pulling in until it pulls up next to him and Arin sees his face through the window. Arin doesn’t know jack shit about cars for the most part but he does recognize the fucking Mercedes hood ornament. Since when does Ross own a Mercedes? 

Ross gets out and half-runs over to Arin’s passenger door. Arin fumbles to unlock the door as Ross gives a vicious pull on the handle.

Ross gives him a once over, says, “Are you okay?” and then, when Arin nods, he says, “Alright, what the fuck, Arin. Dan was ready to start calling hospitals looking for you.”

Arin doesn’t know where the fuck to start. “Ross. Tell me something. Is Game Grumps still a thing? Is that what I do for a living?”

“Are you having a nervous breakdown?”

“You know, I kind of thought that at first too. Also, when did you get a Mercedes?”

“Arin, this isn’t funny.”

“No,” Arin tries to laugh. “It really fucking isn’t.”

“Yes,” Ross says slowly, “you run a channel called Game Grumps. I used to work there too, remember?”

“Used to,” Arin repeats.

“Uh. Yeah. Arin, did you hit your head?”

Is fucking anything the same in this universe? Arin just shrugs and stares at his hands, at the foreign wedding band on his finger. It’s beautiful, and sort of exactly what he might have chosen if he’d been less concerned about having a traditionally masculine ring to pair with Suzy’s extravagantly flashy set. 

Ross reaches out and grabs his hand. “Arin. Look at me.”

Arin does. Ross’s eyes are enormous and terrified.

“You’re really scaring me. Should I take you to the hospital?” 

Arin shakes his head. “Ross. I just. I need you to trust me.”

“I do trust you. You’re my best fucking friend.”

“Okay. So. Listen to me, okay?” Arin wonders if Ross will try to have him committed or something. “So, I was out getting groceries, okay, and then suddenly I’m in this house I’ve never seen before but all my stuff is there and my car’s in the driveway.”

Ross absorbs this pretty well, considering. “So…you blacked out and have amnesia.”

“Uh, not really? I met this guy. This really weird guy who said he knew me and said all this cryptic shit, and then he. Sent me here.” It sounds even crazier when he says it out loud. Ross is looking at him like he’d grown an extra head. But Arin continues, not wanting Ross to get a word in edgewise to the end. “I saw the guy again. He said I was in a different universe. Then he gave me roses and this box and said I’d need them, and then he left. So I go upstairs, and I go in the bedroom, and Dan fucking Avidan’s in the bed, and he’s trying to kiss me.”

Ross stares off into the distance, blinking rapidly. Then he inhales and says, “A wizard sent you to another universe and now you’re freaked out because your husband tried to kiss you.”

The word hits him like a fucking freight train, and it doesn’t come as a _complete_ surprise - Arin had known, or suspected, obviously - but it still makes him feel faint and he has to try and put his head down between his knees. He says, “Ross, please.”

“I’m trying to trust you, okay, Arin? And I know you too well to think this is some stupid prank. But - ”

“I live alone,” Arin says, hoarsely. “I live alone in Burbank and I just got divorced from my wife of five years, and then I think I quit Game Grumps and pissed everyone off. And now I live in the fucking Hollywood Hills and I’m married to - to _Dan_.”

“Your _wife_?” Apparently that’s the weirdest part of what Arin had just said.

“Suzy,” Arin says, and it only hurts a little to say her name out loud now. “Suzy Berhow. I dated her for - ”

“You dated her when you were like, a teenager, dude. I remember. She was your first serious girlfriend.”

The idea that Suzy exists here in this universe is both comforting and terrifying. “Well, where I come from, I never stopped dating her until like. A couple months ago. So maybe you can fill in some blanks for me, because I’m not fucking joking about this. When the hell did I marry Dan?”

Ross stares at him for a good thirty seconds, then says, “Two years ago. 2016.”

“And is he still doing Game Grumps too?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean, he’s a pretty busy guy, but, when he can.”

“Since 2013?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Well. That’s good, at least.”

“You’re not joking about this, are you?” Ross says suddenly. “Like, I mean it. You one hundred percent believe that you’re in another universe.”

Arin just says, “Yeah, now you’re getting it.”

“Holy fuck.” Ross rubs his eyes. “Holy shit, dude, what the fuck.”

“That’s kind of where I am,” Arin agrees. 

“Dan’s not going to believe this,” Ross says. “He’s probably going to try and get you treatment.”

“I think that’s why I was told to play along.”

“By the wizard.”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, yeah.” Ross rubs his face again. “So, obviously, we’re still friends where you came from?”

 _I don’t know anymore._ “Of course,” Arin says, hoping it’s not a lie. “I mean, recently we had a fight…and I kinda started it.”

Ross just snorts. “It can’t have been that bad. I can’t see you saying anything to me that would be like, a deal-breaker in our friendship.”

Fucking ouch. That cuts pretty damn deep. Arin nods his head robotically.

It’s at that moment that Ross’s phone goes off, and Arin’s stomach goes icy when Ross picks it up and makes meaningful eye contact with Arin when he says, “Hey.”

Arin can hear the panic in Dan’s voice but he can’t make out what he’s saying. Arin winces and Ross cuts in, saying, “Dan, look, everything is okay. Arin’s right here. Yeah, he’s okay, he just panicked because - because he forgot your gift at my place.”

 _Gift?_ Arin mouths at Ross, who frowns and holds a finger to his lips. Arin suddenly remembers the roses and the little box he’d been given, stowed in his pocket - and Dan, smiling at him, saying _Happy anniversary…_

“Yeah, he was with me when he bought it, and then he left it with Holly so you wouldn’t find it early. He knew we were heading out of town tomorrow, so…of course, here he is.”

Arin’s not ready, but Ross has already done more than he could have asked for. He takes the phone with sweating palms and tries to sound normal. “Hey, Dan.”

Dan lets out an audible whoosh of breath. “Arin, you scared the shit out of me.”

“I know. I…I’m really sorry.”

“Yeah, you should be.” Dan just sounds hurt, not angry. Same old Dan. And, as ever, it makes Arin’s belly turn into a writhing mess of guilt.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Arin tries.

“You know I don’t care about gifts, right? I’ve told you that a hundred times. I wouldn’t have cared if it was a week late.”

“I’m sorry,” Arin says again, because what else can he say?.

“All I really wanted was to spend time with you.”

Arin winces again. “I just…I wanted everything to be perfect for you.” And maybe he should say it now, on the phone, when it was easier. “I love you.”

Dan sighs. “Oh, Arin.” Now he sounds a lot less mad. “I love you too. Just, try not to give me a heart attack again.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. So, are you still at Ross’s place?”

That was an easier story to stick with. “Yeah. I’ll come home right now, I promise.”

“Uh, actually.” There’s some rustling sounds, and suddenly Arin realizes that he’s on speaker. “I’m closer to Ross’s place than to home, so…”

“What?”

“I maybe freaked out. I was thinking maybe you went into the office, so I started driving that way. And then you kept not answering your phone, so, um, I pulled over because I wasn’t thinking straight and I was almost crying…”

Arin’s an asshole wherever he goes, it seems. “I’m sorry,” he says again. He gets the feeling he’s going to be saying that a lot. 

“I forgive you. This time. But you’re on thin ice.” Dan’s joking now, and Arin’s chest eases up a bit. “Listen. I’m gonna start driving, okay? Be there soon.”

“Okay,” Arin says, trying not to sound panicked. He hangs up and looks at Ross. “He thinks I’m at your place and he’s going there now. So, can we, uh. Drive to your place really fast before he figures out I was lying?”

“Arin.”

“Please, Ross. I don’t know what else to do here.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Ross gripes. “You fucking owe me. We‘ll talk when we get there.”

“Do you still live in Burbank?”

“Uh,” Ross stares at him. “No? When did I - ”

“Well, you’re gonna have to go ahead of me. I’ll follow.”

Ross stares at him some more, then scrambles out of the car and into his own. Arin follows him out of the parking lot and back up into the hills, up the narrow winding streets, climbing steadily higher. They’re going maybe a little too fast, but that’s fine. The roads aren’t busy up here. 

It turns out that Ross lives in a nice house. A very nice house. It’s bigger than Arin’s, and the lot is huge. The Mercedes makes a little more sense. 

“Did you win the lottery or something?” Arin asks when they get out of their cars. 

Ross shoots him an odd look. “Shut up and get inside. I’m trying to decide what we should do about Dan.”

So there was _we_. Ross was on his team. Arin feels twenty times better. He follows Ross into the house - jesus, this is a nice house - and into the kitchen. Arin takes a seat on a stool by the breakfast bar. 

“I’m gonna make coffee,” Ross mutters. “Fuck, it’s early.”

Arin doesn’t drink coffee but he’s willing to try anything that might make his head a little more clear. But maybe his hatred of coffee isn’t restricted to his own universe, because Ross grabs the kettle and says, “You can pick a tea or something.”

“Thanks.”

“You know, you’re lucky your husband doesn’t really get angry. I’d be afraid for my life if I ditched Holly on the morning of our first anniversary together.”

“First of all, stop saying _husband_ , it freaks me out. Secondly - ”

“Uh, you’re gonna have to get used to that. You two are kinda joined at the hip. And you work together, so.”

“I’m used to spending a lot of time with him. It’s the ‘married to a guy’ part that’s weird.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m straight?”

Ross slowly turns around to look Arin in the eye. 

“What?” Arin asks defensively.

“Well, it’s just that…” Ross tilts his head. “Are you sure about that?”

“Okay,” Arin says, because maybe he’s had a _few_ more fantasies than the average guy. “Sure, I’ve. You know. Thought about it, but not as a reality. I’ve never actually done anything with a guy.”

“So in your universe, you and Dan…”

“Uh, where I come from, he’s straighter than I am.”

Ross nods. “That’s the same here. I know you’re the first guy he’s been with, and it kinda surprised everyone.”

Arin clears his throat. “So, by the way, what year is it?”

“Please don’t tell me that you time travelled.”

“I don’t think so. I just mean, you said we got married in 2016, but then how could this be our _first_ anniversary?”

“I said your first anniversary _together_. You were on tour for the last one and he was performing that night so you guys didn’t get to do anything.”

“On tour?” Arin frowns. “Okay, I need to start writing shit down or something. So how did Dan and I end up married?”

Ross doesn’t have time to answer. There’s a knock at the front door, and Ross says, “Yeah, Arin, you should probably go answer that.”

 _Fuck._ Arin lurches up from the stool and goes to the front door. 

Dan’s eyes are kind of red and his hair is a frizzy mess. He’s wearing one of Arin’s plaid shirts over a black Rush shirt and a pair of jeans with the characteristic rips in the knees. He stares at Arin until Arin can’t take it. 

Arin offers him a weak smile. “Um, hey, Dan.”

“Do you have any idea how scared I was?” Dan asks him abruptly.

Alright, straight to the point. Arin can appreciate that. “I…I can imagine.”

Dan crosses his arms. “You were acting like a completely different person. I didn’t even know what to think.”

“Weird dream,” Arin lies. “And then I woke up and realized I didn’t have your gift, so I…I panicked.”

“A weird dream?” Dan sighs. “Jesus, Arin, really?”

“I - ”

“You should have told me you were having nightmares again. You know I don’t mind when you wake me up to cuddle.”

Arin _is_ prone to nightmares when he’s overworked. “Yeah, but…I mean…it’s our anniversary, so…”

Dan stares at him with those sad eyes until Arin can barely take it, but then, luckily, Dan softens. “The roses were beautiful. I saw them on the table. Thank you.”

“I…I’m glad you liked them.”

Dan steps toward him, and Arin braces himself. Dan puts his hands on Arin’s hips and leans in, and Arin’s heart stutters to a complete stop when he gets a long, lingering kiss on the mouth. Arin puts his arms around Dan’s shoulders and rides it out. It’s not exactly unpleasant. Dan smells pretty good for ass o’clock in the morning without a shower, and his lips are softer than he would have thought.

“Don’t be gross on the porch,” Ross yells from the kitchen, and Dan breaks the kiss and rolls his eyes at Arin, like _can you believe him?_

Arin smiles awkwardly back. “So, Ross is making coffee,” he offers. 

“That’s probably a good idea.” Dan sits on the stool Arin had recently occupied. “Hi, Ross.”

“Hey. Sorry for kidnapping your husband.” 

“It’s okay. I’ll need him back at some point, though. It‘s kind of a big day.”

Ross pours coffee and doesn’t have to ask how Dan wants his. He shoots a meaningful look at Arin when he asks Dan, “Do you guys have any plans?”

 _Thank you_ , Arin mouths from behind Dan.

“Well, we were supposed to sleep in late. We figured we’d have a lazy day off, maybe watch a movie, and then go out to dinner.”

“Out to dinner where?”

“Yamashiro, probably. They have good sushi.” Dan reaches for his coffee. “Oh, thanks, Ross.”

“No problem, dude.”

Arin wonders with sudden horror if Dan will expect sex after this romantic dinner at Yamashiro. The thought distracts him from Dan and Ross’s easy banter. He’s mildly okay with kissing Dan if they were supposed to be married. He’s less sure about actually engaging in anything sexual. And he’s pretty sure this isn’t what the wizard guy had meant when he said he was going to fix Arin’s life. He’s so caught up in this train of thought that he misses Dan excusing himself to use the bathroom until he looks around and realizes he’s alone with Ross in the kitchen.

“I could kiss you,” Arin tells Ross, quietly and fervently.

“Please don’t. Your husband will be pissed and I don’t want to fight him. He’s not strong, but he pinches.”

“I mean, thank you for getting him to tell me what I was supposed to do with him today. I’m kind of at a loss here.”

Ross just shrugs. “I’m trying to help. I don’t know how, but I’ll do all I can. I love you both, you know.”

“Thanks.” Arin’s emotional enough that he actually almost tears up a little. Fuck, he loves Ross too. He gets up and pulls Ross into a tight hug, wondering if he’ll ever get to see the other Ross again. He never did get to apologize. The memory of Ross’s angry tears bites him hard and he hugs Ross tighter, as if maybe, if he squeezed hard enough, the other Ross would feel it too.

Ross hugs him back but says, “This is nice, but I do need to breathe.”

“Sorry,” Arin says sheepishly, and lets him go. “Just. Got lost in my head there.”

“Did you just propose?” Dan’s ambled back into the kitchen and is leaning on the breakfast bar. 

“He was just thanking me for keeping the gift safe,” Ross tells him. “Your husband is a giant sap sometimes.”

That makes Dan smile. “You don’t have to tell me. It’s why I married him.”

Arin’s never seen Dan look at him like he’s doing now. They lock eyes, and Dan’s burn a little brighter. The tiny rings of green in Dan’s eyes are much more noticeable in the muted morning light. Arin wonders how he’d never noticed how pretty Dan’s eyes were. His lashes have no curl to them, giving his face a soft, relaxed look.

Ross gulps his hot coffee down and finishes it off with a disgustingly long gulp of milk straight from the carton. “You guys wanna stick around for breakfast? I have, um, cereal. And fruit, somewhere. I can make smoothies.”

Dan wrinkles his nose. “With the milk that you just backwashed in? No thanks. We should get going, anyway.” He yawns, stretching his long arms up above his head. “I’m still kind of sleepy. I might go back to bed.”

“Me too,” Arin says, just to add to the conversation. He doesn’t feel tired, but maybe a nap would help him recharge.

“We’ll talk soon,” Ross says, his tone light but his eyes on Arin. “You two have fun tonight.”

Dan tips Arin a lecherous wink that almost makes Arin’s heart stop. “Oh, we will.”

Together they head outside, and Dan says, “See you at home, babe” before he climbs into his car.

Christ. It’s gonna take a while to get used to that. Is he supposed to call Dan cute pet names too? Thankfully, Dan has to pull out of the driveway first, so Arin can follow him. Arin can’t remember for the life of him how to get back to the house they shared. It’s not far from Ross and Holly, as the crow flies, but all the streets up here are so twisted and winding that it takes longer than he expects.

Arin still has no idea why he’s here or what he’s supposed to do. What was it that the guy said - that he was pulling some extreme makeover shit on Arin’s life? He’s not sure what he can learn from this, or how his relationship with Dan is supposed to work, or if he’s supposed to keep lying to this Dan. 

He also doesn’t know how long he’ll be stuck here. A day, a week, a month? 

Forever?

His heart starts beating a lot faster as he considers that possibility, and he almost misses the driveway that Dan’s car pulls into. Oh, yeah. This looks familiar. Arin takes note of the address before pulling up to the house. It’s probably a good idea to know where he lives.

Dan sighs and collapses on the couch in the living room. Arin sits at the far end, and Dan puts his feet in Arin’s lap. Arin takes that as a good sign.

“Are you okay, Dan?” he asks tentatively.

“Yes.” Dan’s forehead creases. “No. I don’t know.”

“I fucked up,” Arin says, which is obvious. “I didn’t mean to. I just…it‘s been a rough week.”

“I know you didn’t.” Dan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just…I know you get really stressed out sometimes. And that’s totally okay. I just wish you would talk to me and tell me when you’re having a bad week. We’ve talked about this.”

“I know,” Arin says, but he doesn’t. “It won’t happen again.”

“Promise?” Dan fixes him with a look that makes Arin squirm.

“I promise.” Arin searches for a distraction. “Do you, um, want to see your gift?”

Dan considers, then holds out his hands. “Okay, yeah, kind of.”

Arin hopes it’s good, whatever it is. He takes the box out of his pocket and hands it over. Dan says, “Ooh, shiny” and spends a long time fussing with the ribbon.

“It’s just paper,” Arin says, watching Dan carefully unwrap the box without tearing it.

“I’m not a savage like you, alright?” He works open the box and Arin tries to act cool and casual, like he knows what’s in there and that it’s going to be good. He can’t see what’s inside from this angle but Dan’s eyes go wide.

“Arin,” he gasps, and he looks up at Arin with shock.

Arin forces his face into a tentative smile. “Surprise?”

Dan tips the box into his lap, and Arin sees two plane tickets and a folded-up brochure. He opens the brochure with shaky hands and Arin gets a glimpse of turquoise waters and a white sand beach. 

“Six days and seven nights at the most luxurious five-star resort on the Polynesian island of Bora Bora,” Dan reads aloud. “Arin!”

“I thought it sounded pretty nice,” Arin says, like it was no big deal to drop ten thousand dollars on an island vacation with Dan. Jesus, that’s a damn good gift. The wizard hadn’t let him down, that’s for sure. “Are…are you happy?”

“It’ll be like our honeymoon was supposed to be,” Dan says, and he’s actually trembling. Arin hopes that’s good. What the fuck had he done to ruin the honeymoon? 

Luckily Dan saves him by elaborating. “I always felt bad that I got sick right after the wedding…”

Oh, thank fuck. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Still,” Dan reads the brochure with growing delight in his eyes. “We only had so much time to ourselves before we had to get back to work. It was still nice to go to Hawaii that winter…but it wasn’t what we had planned.”

“Well,” Arin says, rapidly absorbing all of that and filing it away for future use, “now we can make up for that.”

Dan sits up, then throws himself at Arin. 

Arin isn’t prepared for a lapful of Dan. Dan’s so light, and he fits so well against him. He drapes his arm’s around Arin’s neck and kisses him, for real this time, and okay, wow, Dan’s tongue is in his mouth. He tastes like coffee, which isn’t the greatest, but he kisses with more passion than Arin’s ever experienced, and he’s damn good at it too. Arin tries to match his pace, to not flinch back from the feeling of stubble against his skin. He’s going to have to get used to it. If he spends a week with Dan in Bora Bora, he’s definitely going to have to kiss him a lot.

“Thank you,” Dan says into his mouth. “Thank you so much, Arin, I love you.”

Arin‘s heart does a weird double-thump. He remembers the last time that _his_ Dan had said it, and Arin hadn’t said it back or given any indication that he cared. His eyes burn a little when he says, “I love you too.” 

Dan smacks one more kiss on Arin’s cheek and snuggles up in his arms. Arin’s mentally exhausted and scared and confused, but he stays calm on the outside and strokes Dan’s hair. He’d just have to try to hold it together as long as he can.


	4. Progress, Maybe

Arin still feels like a stranger in his own house, although he doesn’t feel like running away any more. That’s probably a good sign. Progress, maybe.

The initial panic is definitely gone. Arin thinks that he might be able to develop a plan of action. Having Ross being here and knowing the truth feels good too, even if he’s over in his Hollywood Hills mansion while Arin is stuck here trying to figure out what to do with Dan and how to get back to real life. 

And _stuck_ is literal. In the face of actual magic and wizards with dimensional teleportation powers, Arin is watching TV with Dan draped on top of him. 

Eventually Dan tucks his face against Arin’s chest and appears to fall asleep. Arin stares down at the slope of Dan’s nose, the fan of eyelashes casting shadows from the light of the morning sun through the window. One rogue curl droops down across his forehead, fluttering from his deep slow breaths. Arin brushes it to the side with a thumb, and Dan makes a little noise and snuggles closer.

It’s not entirely unpleasant, Arin concedes, but he doesn’t know why this is important enough for the wizard guy to send him here. _Some extreme home makeover shit,_ he’d said, and, well. Yeah, he definitely needed it. He’s pretty sure being a depressed binge-drinking emo fuck is natural after a break-up. But what he’d said to Dan and Ross was another story.

 _Better to hand the company over to someone else than pilot it into a fucking nose dive,_ he reasons, but that falls flat. The truth is, Arin isn’t sure why he couldn’t seem to throw himself into his work to forget about his troubles at home. That was his usual _modus operandi_ , after all. 

Starbomb was fun. Game Grumps was fun. Some of the best times in his life had been onstage with Dan, or in the grump room with Dan. 

_So what are you scared of?_

Arin pushes that down and watches four back-to-back episodes of Supernatural before he realizes that one of his legs has gone numb. He wriggles out from beneath Dan, making Dan grumble a little, and goes into the kitchen. 

The kitchen. _His_ kitchen. Except it’s not his, really. Arin rummages through the fridge, not really hungry but half-exploring and half looking for something to do with his hands. He takes a bottle of Perrier, reminding himself that it‘s not actually stealing, and finds a box of Cheese Nips in the cupboard. 

While he’s at it, he tries to familiarize himself with the layout, before he has to do something that might draw attention. He’s pretty sure Dan might raise an eyebrow if he watched Arin search ten drawers to find the cutlery, or something.

There doesn’t seem to be much else to do. Arin was told that he should learn something, and should probably be taking steps to figure that out, but he doesn’t know where to start. He doesn’t even know where his things are. 

Further exploration of the house reveals a laptop, and when Arin boots it up out of curiosity, his usual password works to log in. His laptop, then. He opens the Pictures folder and clicks around, his heart beating faster when he sees a bunch of things that look familiar but are slightly different. 

The Grump space looks the same. Mostly. There’s a shot of Danny striking a silly pose in front of the wall where Arin’s used to seeing the Youtube plaque for Kitty Kat Gaming, and there’s some other award there instead that Arin doesn’t recognize. It’s definitely not Youtube related. Dan’s outstretched arm hides the text.

When he looks closer, more things stand out. Ross’s office isn’t even there. And Vernon is sitting at Suzy’s desk. There’s a photo taken just a few months ago and Barry is still there in the meeting room, grinning at something phallic that Dan’s drawing on the whiteboard. 

And there’s a wedding album. Of course there’s a wedding album. Arin holds his breath and peeks in, and the first picture he sees is him and Dan, in suits and ties, standing in a gazebo. They’re gazing into each other’s eyes, totally oblivious to the photographer or really anything else going on around them. 

Arin closes the laptop and breathes deep.

Pictures won’t help. The past shouldn’t concern him as much as the present. Arin’s here for a reason, not to gawk at old pictures and play _Spot the Difference_.

On his way back to the living room, something catches his eye. There’s a lot of decorative things on the walls - lots of framed photos, little oddities, a piece of polished kanji pyrography - but nothing specifically from Arin’s own universe. 

Nothing except a pretty taxidermy display of a brilliant blue morpho butterfly on a gothic frame. 

It’s the same one that Suzy had given to him shortly after setting up her Etsy shop. Not the same type of butterfly. It’s the same fucking piece, down to the scratch on the frame and the slightly messed-up wing. 

Arin touches the glass front of the shadow box, his hand shaking, and the memory just sort of flows back to him. She had dropped the frame, and nicked the wing when she’d tried to mount the butterfly, but Arin convinced her not to throw it away. _It’s beautiful_ , he had told her, and her frustrated face had softened. 

He had put it in his old office for the longest time, not on the wall but standing on his desk. It was still there today. It shone turquoise in the light, like Danny’s costume.

Arin’s throat feels tight. There’s something here, something important. Suzy doesn’t just exist here. She’s not just his ex. Fuck, they kept in touch after the breakup, in this universe. Which, if Ross was to be believed, was more than ten years ago. This had to have been a gift or something - she wouldn’t sell what she thought was such an imperfect piece. And it’s not something Arin would just go out and buy for himself. 

Maybe this is what Arin is supposed to learn. That no matter how far they were separated, they’d always find each other again. She still thought about him, years after they separated in this universe. 

Maybe Arin’s supposed to realize that the real Suzy is still thinking of him too.

There’s no _eureka_ moment, no bells or lights to indicate that this was the big realization that Arin’s supposed to have, but hell, it’s something. It’s something, and Arin can’t afford not to try.

With trembling hands, Arin gets out his phone. Suzy’s name isn’t in his contacts, but he knows her old Florida cell number off by heart. He dials before he loses his nerve, and his heart is somewhere in his throat when it starts to ring.

It goes to voicemail. An old woman’s voice starts a few seconds too long after the recording starts. Arin fights the sting of disappointment and hangs up. Then he tries Suzy’s parents, who have had the same landline number since he can remember. This call goes to voicemail too, but this time he recognizes his father-in-law’s voice and he panics. 

Fuck, this is creepy, this isn’t the right way to go about this. Arin ends the call and curses under his breath. Maybe she’s in his email contacts - but no, he can’t find her there, either. Or maybe -

“Business email,” Arin says out loud. Shit, of course. Maybe he could open up a conversation by ordering something from her, or asking her a question. Taking a deep breath, he finds her Etsy - it’s the same, jesus, some of the jewellery is different but the rest of it is the goddamn same - and taps her business email to copy it.

What is he supposed to say to this Suzy who doesn’t know him as anything but her ex from over a decade ago?

It comes out awkward, almost stupid. Arin has no practice with treating Suzy as a casual acquaintance. He can’t be formal, he _can’t_ , but just _hey, Suzy_ sounds weird too. 

In the end he types:

_Was thinking about you the other day. I still have the butterfly you gave me. Hope you’re doing well._

_-Arin_

Is that creepy? Arin can’t tell. He almost puts his phone number at the end, but that’s almost definitely over the line. Instead he just takes a breath and hits _send_ and tries not to think about why his stomach hurts.

A noise from the other room makes him jump, like he’s guilty of something. The couch creaks - Dan’s rolling over or sitting up. Shit. 

Arin tucks his phone away quickly and takes his Perrier and crackers into the living room. Dan looks up at him, sleep-rumpled and disoriented, and mumbles, “I’m cold.”

“Hi cold, I’m Arin.”

Dan chokes on his yawn, and Arin grins and sits down beside him. Dan puts his socked feet in Arin’s lap again and wiggles them down between his legs for warmth. It’s a bit jarring to have Dan’s foot nestled under his dick but Arin takes it in stride. It’s not the weirdest thing that Dan’s done in this universe and it’s certainly not the weirdest thing to happen to Arin lately.

Arin clears his throat. “What are you watching?”

“A toothpaste commercial,” Dan deadpans.

“Oh, ha ha. So funny.”

“It gives you the ring of confidence, Arin.”

“What the shit?”

“It’s the Colgate slogan.”

Arin stares at him. Dan’s not great at pulling fast ones on Arin because he has a terrible pokerface. “Is it actually? What the fuck does that even mean?”

“You’ve never seen those old commercials? Like from the ‘80s?”

“No,” Arin says, amused at Dan’s earnestness, “because I’m not a dinosaur like you.”

Dan fake-gasps and swipes Arin’s Cheese Nips from his hands. “Are you calling me old?”

“Give me my Nips or I’ll show _you_ my ring of confidence.”

That makes Dan laugh so hard he nearly chokes on the handful of crackers he’d shoved in his mouth. That makes Arin laugh too, mostly because Dan losing his mind at a dumb joke was always funny to him.

The foot in his lap shifts, pressing more deliberately against Arin’s crotch, and Arin’s laugh gets stuck in his throat.

Dan’s giggles die off and eyes get a little darker. He bites his lower lip. Arin feels pinned in place by those eyes. God, Dan’s face is so expressive, and he looks at Arin like Arin hung the damn moon. 

It’s going to take him a long time to get used to this. To go from their usual banter to - to Dan practically eyefucking him. It’s extremely distracting to say the least.

The commercials are over. Arin tears his eyes away from Dan when something strangely familiar catches his eye. He nearly has another heart attack when he sees the screen.

“Holy shit,” he blurts.

“What?” Dan asks, glancing over. “What are you looking at?”

“It’s - ” Arin knows these characters, these designs. He knows them because he’s seen a thousand storyboards, a million glimpses on Ross’s laptop as he walked by in the office. “This - I know what this is.”

“Of course you do.” Dan gives him a quizzical look. “I’m always down for Gameoverse. It’s just a re-run, though.” He takes another handful of crackers and hands the box back to Arin. “I know Ross told me when the new season premieres, but I can’t remember.”

“Gameoverse,” Arin gasps. Jesus Christ, it’s on the Cartoon Network. 

“Uh, yeah. That would be what it’s called.”

“Ross’s show,” Arin says numbly, mostly to himself. The real Ross would shit his pants if he saw this. Or maybe he wouldn’t. There’s no way he doesn’t know how good he can be.

“Arin, are you okay?”

Arin stares at the screen, watching the title sequence that’s both totally alien and completely familiar at the same time. It’s Ross’s style, anyone could see that, but it’s so vividly _alive_. It’s sleek and colourful, with the obvious manga influence and the charm of classic cartoons. The rough edges are all smoothed out without losing the unique small-studio feel. 

Arin thinks back to all the days he’d spent with Ross, writing out the dialogue for each episode, listening to Ross talk for hours about concepts and character arcs. Before him he can see all of that, all of Ross’s passion and years of planning, illustrated and animated and come to life. 

As an artist and an animator, Arin is beyond impressed.

“Holy shit,” he says again. “Holy _shit._ ”

“Um, Arin? You’re kinda freaking me out.” 

Arin takes a deep breath to calm down. Dan is looking at him like he’s lost his mind. Arin shakes himself and says weakly, “Sorry, kind of - had a moment there.” Dan’s still looking worried, so Arin adds, “Just a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

Dan relaxes. “You’ve been stressing out about the Emmy nomination again, aren’t you?”

Okay, Arin definitely needs more information on that. “Yeah?” he asks feebly.

Dan rolls his eyes. “Damn it, Arin. I already told you, you’re going to win this time.”

“ _I’m_ going to win?”

“Hell yeah. Season five was incredible. There’s no way you can be nominated four times in a row and not win. I know these things are rigged as fuck, but come on. Does Adventure Time really need another Emmy?” 

“No?” Arin’s brain hurts.

“Exactly. And it’s a great idea to have you and Ross give the acceptance speech together. I know you’re humble, and you always say you don’t contribute as much, but we all know that’s bullshit.” 

The Mercedes and the huge house are making a lot more sense. Arin struggles to keep up with the conversation, filing all of this new information away in his brain. Gameoverse isn’t just on primetime TV. It’s nominated for a goddamn Emmy. For the fourth time, according to Dan. _But why would I be going to the awards with Ross to accept it?_

“I guess so,” Arin says, like a fucking genius. 

Dan pokes him in the thigh with a toe. “No more stressing,” he orders. “You’re a great public speaker and you know it. Plus you look hot as fuck in a tuxedo.” 

“Thanks,” is all Arin can think to say, and he’s just happy his voice doesn’t crack. He’s surreptitiously Googling like mad on his phone, held down where Dan can’t see it, and IMDB has his own name right under Ross’s in the writing credits and at the top of the list of what appears to be thirty-five voice actors.

_And you told him his show was shit._

That was maybe an exaggeration, but Arin still bites the inside of his cheek. And he can’t even apologize, not until he gets back home. That is, if he gets back home, and if Ross ever wants to talk to him again. 

Was this another one of the things Arin was supposed to realize? If so, the wizard isn’t all that smart. Arin knew all along how talented Ross was. He didn’t need four Emmy nominations rubbed in his face to know that Ross’s fame was going to eclipse his own someday.

Or maybe the point of all of this was to punish him. To remind him over and over of how he’d smashed this friendship, chose the words that would cut Ross the most, all because Ross tried to reach out and help.

Arin suddenly misses Ross with a fierceness that hurts, and he instinctively reaches for Dan.

_I want to go home. Please, wizard guy, genie, whoever you are. I get it. I need to tell him I’m sorry._

Dan says, “Oof” but sounds pleased when Arin hugs him, trying not to grab on too tight. This might not be his Dan but when Arin buries his face in his hair, he smells the same, and if Arin closes his eyes he can almost pretend like he’s home and none of this ever happened.

Arin indulges in the illusion until his stomach grumbles loudly, reminding him that crackers and water weren’t exactly a filling breakfast. Dan laughs and Arin finally lets him go.

“Hungry?” Dan teases.

“Yeah, a little. Some bastard ate half my Cheese Nips.”

“Want a real breakfast?” Dan rolls to the side and stretches. His pants are riding kind of low and his shirt pulls up over his stomach, and Arin’s eyes fix on the obvious red suck mark on the sharp jut of his hip. “I can cook you something.”

“It’s okay.” Arin’s anxious, jittery. He needs to get something done. “So, uh, what time did you want to go out for dinner?”

“Dunno,” Dan says vaguely. 

“Like six, six-thirty…?”

Dan just shrugs. “Maybe six? Yamashiro usually gets pretty busy past that.”

“Cool.” Arin shifts his legs. “So, hey, do you mind if maybe I head out for a couple hours before then?”

Arin has a half-formed plan, something about calling Ross and getting him to meet him at the office, or somewhere private where they can talk. He’s starting to wonder if he’ll get sent back to real life if he learns from this Ross how to encourage and help the real Ross achieve the success he deserves. 

With any luck, Holly might even believe his story, too. It’s a pity Brian’s so hardheaded and quick to dismiss anything without stone cold evidence - _he_ could probably analyze the situation better than anyone. And Arin needs all the help he can get.

He’s so lost in his own head that he misses the warning signs in Dan’s voice when he says, “Where would you go?”

“Uh, just, you know, work stuff. With Ross.”

“You want to go hang out with Ross on our anniversary.”

Shit. “Well, it’s kind of important.”

“After literally running away from me to go see him this morning.”

“That was unrelated.”

Dan doesn’t reply right away, but eventually he says, “You know, if it’s really such a big deal to take a week off together, then maybe we shouldn’t have tried in the first place.”

That‘s not fucking fair. _I didn’t ask to be sent here._ “I’m going to spend the whole evening with you, aren’t I?”

“I don’t know,” Dan answers, frowning. “Maybe you’ll have to go into work again. Maybe Ross will want to go out for dinner with you.”

“Dan, hey, come on.” Arin fights down the swell of guilt - he doesn’t have anything to feel guilty about, okay, _he_ didn’t make any vows to Dan. “I’m not going anywhere else. I’ll be home all night. With you.”

“Am I supposed to feel grateful?”

“If I say yes are you going to get pissy?” 

That was a dumb thing to say. Shit. Dan stares at Arin, like he can’t believe what just came out of his mouth. Maybe he’s giving Arin a chance to backtrack. But Arin’s an established idiot, so he doesn’t.

Dan’s mouth turns into a hard line. “Yeah. So. You do what you want, I guess. I’m gonna go take a shower.”

Fuck. “I didn’t mean to - ”

“No, you know what? You’re right, it’s fine, we don’t need time off together or anything.”

“I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry a lot today.”

“Dan, listen, you don’t understand.” Ah, crap, this sucks worse than Arin would have thought. 

“Yeah. You’re right. I don’t.” Dan heads for the stairs. “And I’m not in any mood to deal with this after what you did this morning. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you know what? Right now I don’t care.”

Arin has no way to defend himself. Could he try to tell Dan the truth? 

But no - the wizard had said to play along - had given Arin an anniversary gift to ensure Dan wouldn’t suspect anything. That had to be important. 

“Fine,” is all Arin says.

Dan turns to give him a look, both hurt and confused. He opens his mouth to speak and seems to think better of it. “Fine,” he echoes, and then he gives Arin his back and goes upstairs.

“For fuck’s sake,” Arin mutters when he’s gone. He rubs a hand over his face. 

It’s hard to blame Dan. Arin does work a lot, or at least he used to, and apparently he works his ass off here between Game Grumps and Ross’s show and God knows what else. Scheduling a week off must be rare. 

_This Dan must have been looking forward to it for months._

Arin doesn’t even bother messaging Ross. He can’t think about anything except the way his stomach feels like it’s full of rocks. He drops his phone on the coffee table and curls back up on the couch.

Well, at least his anxious urge to take action is gone. Now he just feels like lying here forever, doing nothing, a big useless lump.

 _Just like home_ , he thinks, and he tries to laugh, but there’s nothing funny about that. There’s nothing funny about any of this. Arin’s going to strangle that fucking wizard guy with his bare hands if he ever shows up again.

**

Dan comes back down about forty-five minutes later, hair damp and sticking to his face. He doesn’t say anything, and he starts to walk right by, as if he’s heading out onto the back patio.

Arin says, “Hey.”

“Hey.” Dan keeps walking. 

“Danny, please. Wait.”

Dan stops in his tracks. “Yeah.”

Arin doesn‘t know what to say. He has to say something. “Come sit with me?”

“Sure, I guess.” Dan sounds more upset than angry. That gives Arin pause. 

_He thinks he did something to make me mad at him._

Dan sits, not as far away as he can be, but far enough that they’re not touching. He doesn’t lean into Arin or put his feet in his lap. His back is too stiff and too straight, and he keeps his head forward so all Arin sees is his hair.

Dan doesn’t get mad easily, and when he does he spends a lot of time deep in thought, trying to resolve the issue on his own or figure out where he might have gone wrong. He was always quick to blame himself. Arin’s easy lie about feeling stressed and having nightmares had thrown a big blob of guilt into the mix, and now Dan’s overanalyzing everything he’s said and done in the past week. 

_Good. Keep him distracted._ Arin has enough to deal with already. Give him enough to feel guilty about and Dan would leave him alone for hours.

Except that’s really kind of cruel, and Dan doesn’t deserve to be played with like that.

 _I’m already taking him to fucking Bora Bora,_ the asshole part of himself snaps. _What more could he want?_

But that isn’t fair either. Dan didn’t ask for this, no more than Arin had. And Arin has no right to congratulate himself on a gift that he didn’t buy.

They stay quiet for a while. At least Dan doesn’t seem like he’s going to go anywhere. He wants to be with Arin - _his_ Arin, at least. Arin’s maybe not as good as his alternate universe self, but he can try. 

Arin touches the back of Dan’s hand tentatively, and Dan loosely grabs at it. It reminds Arin of when he and Suzy had fights and hadn’t quite made up yet, but were past the blaze of anger. 

“You wanna watch something else?” Arin asks when _The Blacklist_ gets gory enough to make Dan visibly tense.

Dan shrugs. “It’s fine.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Arin has enough experience with marriage to know that _fine_ is another warning sign. Dan either doesn’t want to talk, or he’s still echoing Arin from earlier.

“Want me to make you my famous scrambled eggs?” 

“I’m not hungry anymore.”

Fuck. This isn’t going anywhere. “Dan, please, look at me.”

Dan gives him brief eye contact, and Arin kind of wants to punch himself in the face when he sees Dan’s red eyes. “Were you crying?” he blurts.

Dan doesn’t answer. He just sort of hunches in on himself, and Arin can’t take it. He leans in and tries to wrap his arms around Dan’s rigid frame. 

Dan holds off at first, for maybe about ten seconds, and then he starts to relax into Arin’s hug. He’s hurting, but he wants the comfort. Arin hopes he can make this right.

“Please forgive me,” Arin tries. “I know I’m being a huge dick today, but…I’m going to get a grip on myself. I’m dealing with a lot of shit right now, but none of it is as bad as you being mad at me. And none of it is your fault. I just…I’m sorry.”

“You can talk to me, you know,” Dan whispers. “I…I didn’t even know the stress was so bad, until today.”

“You couldn’t have known. I didn’t tell you.”

“I’m supposed to know. I’m supposed to help you when you’re going through a rough time.”

“You do. You’re always there for me.” At least, Arin assumes he is. His Dan is always there for him, always trying to help, and they’re not even married. He takes a deep breath. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“I know you are, Arin. But…”

Arin winces in anticipation.

Dan seems to be searching for the right words. Then he says, “Please don’t shut me out any more. You’re acting kind of…closed off, I guess? It’s not like you. You seemed fine last night and then all of a sudden…”

“I know.” _Trust me, I know._

“Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed for us to take this time off. I would have been fine with just a weekend with you.” Dan sighs. “I guess I don’t mind if you want to go talk to Ross today. I mean…I mind a little bit, but…I get that you guys are super busy and I respect that.”

“Dan, no, it was a stupid idea. I don’t need to go anywhere. It’s our anniversary and I already fucked it up. I just, was thinking about the show, and…”

“I shouldn’t have even brought it up,” Dan mutters. “You told me you were freaked out about it. Why did I bring it up?”

Arin squirms with guilt. “It’s not your fault, okay? And I’m not going to think about work any more until our break is over.” Arin squeezes Dan tighter and tries to think of the right things to say. It doesn’t feel right to keep spinning these lies, so he goes with a truth. 

“I love you. I love spending time with you. And hearing you find try to find ways to blame yourself for my stupidity kind of makes me want to cry, so. Please stop it. You did nothing wrong.”

Dan’s eyes never leave his face. His face softens, and the tense lines of his body finally relax. 

“I love you too, Arin.” Dan tilts his head, looking at Arin expectantly, and oh yeah. He probably wants -

Arin doesn’t let himself think about it, he just goes in. He brushes Dan’s hair to the side and kisses him.

It’s weird how natural it feels. Arin hasn’t kissed anyone on the mouth besides Suzy since he was a dumb kid. Maybe it’s because he and Dan have always been close. They’ve slept in the same bed on tour, they’ve taken naps together at work, cuddled on the Grump couch, hugged a thousand times. 

When Arin pulls back, the crease in Dan’s forehead is gone and he looks a thousand times better than before. Arin lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Dan just doesn’t look like himself without that little sparkle in his eye, the relaxed and easy set of his jaw.

And Arin’s right back where he started, really, but he feels better, too.

Progress, maybe.


	5. Shooting Stars

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Dan asks, reaching for Arin’s hand across the table.

Yamashiro is pretty. Arin’s been here before, but never with Dan. Their table overlooks a courtyard and koi pond, and from where they’re sitting Arin can’t see anything of the hills beyond. They really could be right in Japan. The soft ambient light of the hanging bamboo lamps makes it seem later than it is, making the cobalt sky appear almost black.

Arin’s been thinking about the last time he was here, with Suzy, maybe six months or so before their divorce. Arin had known there was something wrong, some problem neither of them could define. They had both known it, but it had taken them a while to come to terms with it. There had been no fight, no single issue that they disagreed on, just a slow coasting ride to the end. 

It still hurts. Arin can take failure, but it’s harder to take the idea that he’d failed someone else.

And he’s been thinking, of course, about the complete and utter insanity of this whole situation. Transported to an alternate universe, and what does he do? Arin goes out for sushi.

And somewhere, in another world, Arin’s friends are hurting from what he’d said, what he’d done. Do they miss him? Do they know he’s gone? Do any of them care? Arin can’t blame them if they don’t.

But of course he can’t tell Dan any of that. 

“I was just thinking about how handsome you look,” Arin says instead, and it’s not a lie. Dan does look exceptionally nice, wearing a dark blue button-down and grey pants.

It’s rare for Arin to see Dan wearing anything but a graphic tee and ripped jeans, and sometimes his beloved white leather jacket with the black stripes down the arms. Arin’s seen him dressed up before, but never just for him. It’s an odd thought, that all of this was for him.

Dan leans forward in his chair, fingers curling around Arin’s, his smile a little wicked, a little Danny Sexbang-style cheesy flirtatious, and Arin isn’t sure how that makes him feel. “Arin Hanson, are you trying to seduce me?”

“What, I have to try?”

Dan likes to brush his thumb over Arin’s wedding band when they hold hands. “I think you’re buttering me up because you want your gift.”

Arin had forgotten about that. It makes sense that Dan got him something. “Maybe a little. What is it?”

“Any guesses?”

Jesus, how the fuck. He hopes Dan’s kidding. “Animal, vegetable, or mineral?”

Dan laughs appreciatively, and then a distraction comes in the form of Dan’s miso soup and Arin’s fried calamari. He waits until their server is gone, then reaches into his jacket and comes out with a small box, a little bigger than the one the stranger had given to Arin. “So this is for you.” 

Dan’s holding it like it’s made of glass. “Is it breakable?” 

“Well, it’s pretty durable. You just don’t want to fuck it up.”

Arin takes the box gingerly. It’s heavier than it looks. “What is it?”

“Well.” Dan blows on his soup and forces a look of modesty that smacks of bullshit. “It’s not a vacation in a tropical paradise, but I hope you’ll like it.”

 _This isn’t supposed to be mine_ , Arin thinks with guilt as he rips the shiny paper off. It’s pink, of course. Dan hadn’t wrapped it very well, but the effort was definitely there. There’s a thin white box beneath the paper, and when Arin opens that it reveals a second, sturdier crimson box with a gold logo. 

Inside _that_ is a gorgeous watch, nestled in crimson velvet. 

It’s the kind of watch that made his black Guess watch look like dollar store trash. It’s silver, or maybe white gold or platinum, shit, Arin doesn’t know.

“Holy fucking hell,” Arin says hoarsely, feeling the weight of it in his hands. He stares at the logo on the face. “Dan, this is - this is - how much was this?”

“You don’t get to ask how much.” 

“Yeah, but - ”

“But what, you can’t talk, _you_ basically got us a second honeymoon like it was nothing. Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” Arin asks, a little incredulous. It’s goddamn _beautiful_. Arin had been into wearing nice watches for a while, and in his mind _nice_ meant that it didn’t come from Walmart. This is the kind of watch that fucking A-list actors wear on their yachts. This is the kind of watch that a rapper would brag about owning. “Dan, it’s - it’s, shit, it’s incredible and you can’t just - ”

Dan likes giving presents. He’s blushing now, looking more pleased than he did when he saw his own gift. “Oh, also.” Dan reaches for the watch and turns it over in Arin’s hands, and the back of the face is engraved with both of their initials and _02/14/15_. 

Arin knows that’s too early to be an engagement or wedding. He wonders if that was their first date. If so, jeeze. They moved fast. Arin touches the engraved numbers.

“It was the second best day of my life,” Dan says, watching Arin’s face.

“The second?”

“I gotta say that the best day of my life was when I decided to move to California.” 

“Yeah?”

“Well, yeah, of course. It was like everything I ever wanted in life was just there, waiting for me.” Dan cups Arin’s upturned hands in his own. “It was like I was searching for something for so many years and never knew what it was until I met you.”

Even his Dan has a habit of saying things that should be cheesy and cliché, but hit Arin right in the heart. He takes a shaky breath and wonders if both Dans feel the same way. “Thank you,” is all he can say, and his voice hitches. Dan’s smile grows. 

“You wanna wear it now?”

“I feel like I’m going to get mugged if I walk around with this thing on.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.” 

Arin pauses, already smiling, but before he can come up with a comeback for that one, Dan says, “Shut it, Hanson, I can so be tough.” He plucks the watch from Arin’s hands and fits it around his wrist. 

It’s not as heavy on as he would have guessed. It’s a perfect fit, and feels more comfortable than the rest of his dressy attire. The lanterns give it a rose gold hue, and Arin can’t stop staring at it. 

“You really shouldn’t have,” he says weakly. “It’s too much. I…fuck, Dan, I don‘t deserve this.”

“Oh, come on, Arin, not this again. You deserve to have nice things. When do you ever really treat yourself any more?” Dan’s eyes are dark and warm. “You’re always so giving.”

“Like when?”

“Seriously?” Dan shakes his head. “How about like always? Every damn day since you just offered to finance my half-baked music career way back when I first moved out here.”

That had happened here too? “That was a long time ago.”

“I’ll never forget it.” Dan’s smile is wistful. “I think maybe that’s when I realized I was going to fall in love with you one day. It took me a while to accept it, but I knew there was something special about you since the day we met.”

For a moment Arin finds the air too thick to breathe. He takes Dan’s hand and presses his mouth to Dan’s bony knuckles, the closest thing to a kiss he can do in public without drawing some stares. 

He tries to put a lot of unsaid things into the kiss, as tame as it is, and he thinks Dan understands at least some of them from the way he smiles.

There’s danger here. Arin’s going too far, thinking of things he shouldn’t. He goes quiet, and Dan doesn’t seem to mind. He eats his soup with dainty little bites and steals a piece of calamari from Arin’s plate.

Once the topic of discussion moves away from romance, Arin finds it easier to hold up his end of the conversation. It’s always been easy to talk to Dan - he’s a really good listener, and it’s easy to make him laugh, which Arin’s always loved to do - and this version of Dan isn’t so different from Arin’s own. They talk for nearly two hours as they make their way through their appetizers and a huge sushi boat. After, Dan confesses himself defeated, but Arin orders dessert for himself.

The cake comes with ornate chocolate drizzle and several fortune cookies on the plate for presentation. Arin picks one up and passes it to Dan. 

“Aren’t fortune cookies Chinese?” Dan asks Arin, using his long fingers to pry it open.

“Well, they’re technically American.” Arin bites his open. “One version of the story says a Chinese immigrant invented them, and another version says that a Japanese guy did in San Francisco.”

“Oh. What does yours say?”

Arin fumbles his cookie and ends up dropping his little slip of paper onto his food and says, “Fuck. You first.”

“Good health will be mine for many years,” Dan reads, then makes a face. “I guess my crippling digestive issues will just miraculously go away, then.”

Arin picks up his fortune and wipes off the chocolate sauce. The writing is weird. It looks like someone handwrote it with a black pen. He frowns and squints at it.

_What you seek is closer than you think. Have a little faith. I told you, it’s going to be okay._

His stomach turns to ice and his face must do something weird, because Dan gives him a curious look and says, “What’s wrong?”

“Uh.” Arin blinks and tries to come up with a lie, even though he’s not sure why - it won’t mean anything to Dan. He looks back at the slip and physically jerks back in the chair when he sees the plain dark red computer-generated font that definitely hadn’t been there a second ago. “‘Go confidently where your dreams lead you’?”

“Are you feeling alright, babe?”

“Oh, yeah, just. I ate too much, I think.” Arin’s sweating into his dress shirt. He had enough problems without spontaneously hallucinating. Or had that really happened? Who the fuck even knew what was possible anymore?

“Me too,” Dan admits. “That sushi boat is supposed to serve four. You want to ask for your dessert to go?”

Arin pokes at his food. His appetite is gone. “Kinda, yeah.” 

When their server comes with the bill, Arin fumbles for his wallet, but Dan’s faster. After, Dan takes him by the hand and leads him outside. There’s a walkway looking out over the gardens and down the hills beyond, an endless expanse of twinkling lights. Arin grasps the railing and gazes down. When he lets his eyes unfocus, it’s a whirlwind of gold and blue and black, and the cars driving by look like shooting stars.

 _Make a wish,_ Arin thinks hazily, wondering why his heart is hurting so much.

The day’s events flash by his mind, over and over, until he gets dizzy and leans against Dan.

“You okay?” Dan murmurs, kissing Arin’s temple.

“Tired,” Arin manages.

“You look it.” Dan brushes Arin’s hair out of his eyes tenderly. “I’ll drive us back, I think.”

That was probably smart. Arin’s eyelids droop as the exhaustion hits him head on.

Maybe tomorrow he’d wake up in his own bed. Maybe this is all just a dream. It’s easy to feel like he’s in a fantasy world, up here in the hills, in the sea of lights and muggy heat, the food weighing him down.

_What you seek is closer than you think._

He’d read it clear as day.

 _Where?_ Arin wonders helplessly. He’s trying, he really is. Another clue might be helpful. _Just show me, fuck._

He could stay here for a while, in this world. A little longer would be bearable. Here, at least, Arin’s not a complete fuck-up. It’s actually been really nice to spend a whole day with Dan.

But sooner or later it would have to end. Just like all good things. Arin’s been taught that lesson well.

He falls asleep in the car to the sound of Dan singing along with the Smashing Pumpkins.

**

Arin wakes up when they pull up to the house.

“Hey big cat, you awake?”

“Think so,” Arin mumbles. He feels half-drunk as he stumbles out of the car, and he lets Dan take him by the hand and lead him into the house. It already feels kind of like home, and Arin isn’t sure how to take that. “Think I’m gonna brush my teeth and go to bed.”

“It’s only nine-thirty,” Dan says. “You really wanna go to bed already?”

Arin’s bone-tired. Too tired to think that maybe he’s being kind of a disappointing husband. He nods wearily and Dan doesn’t question it, just says, “Okay” and leads him up the stairs to the room they shared. He takes off Arin’s watch, and his tie, and then his blazer, and then he’s unbuttoning Arin’s shirt, fingers lingering on bare skin. Arin pops the button on his dress pants and kicks them off his ankles, not really thinking about what he’s doing until Dan pushes him onto the bed. 

When he opens his eyes, Dan’s in nothing but his boxers, and he’s getting on the bed with Arin.

Arin’s heart stops. He loves Dan, he really does, but - fuck, this is too far. 

He’s not the man Dan thinks he is. He’s not the wonderful husband that this Dan knows. He doesn’t deserve this devotion, the adoring look in Dan’s eyes, the soft kiss Dan presses to his cheek. He doesn’t deserve it and yet he puts his arms around Dan’s bare shoulders when Dan lays on top of him. He’s so warm to the touch, his skin smooth beneath Arin’s hands. 

Arin opens his mouth to say something, a weak protest maybe, but then Dan kisses him and Arin loses the ability to think. He moans deep in his chest and tips his head back and Dan’s lips make a trail down his jaw.

“I’m kind of sleepy,” Arin says, because he has to back out of this. All he can think about is Dan, chasing him out the door of the Grump space, begging _Arin, please don’t do this_. 

“I know. I think you’ve been working too hard, baby girl.” 

“You know me,” Arin mumbles.

“I do know you. You never stop to take care of yourself.” 

_You don’t get it, I don’t deserve you. Can’t have you, don’t deserve you…_

“Sometimes I just get caught up in trying to do too much at once. I don’t realize I’m exhausted until I stop.”

“I know,” Dan whispers into his ear, “so right now I just want you to lay back and relax.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm. I think I know the perfect way to help.”

Arin’s stomach twists into a knot. He can’t do this. He doesn’t know a way out but he can’t do this.

It’s not the prospect of sex with a guy - his level of comfort with that fact might have been more alarming, if it weren’t for the whole multi-universe bombshell. It’s that Arin is living a lie, and participating in this under the guise of being someone he’s not feels way past the moral grey zone and solidly into the realm of scumbag. 

And yet - Dan is kissing his ear, his neck, and it feels good, feels so good to be loved and wanted. Dan knows all his sensitive spots. The way he likes a little bit of teeth, just a tiny nip of pain. And how the fuck can he tell Dan that they should stop? 

He has to - he has to at least try. Fuck. Arin catches Dan’s wrist when he reaches for the waistband of Arin’s boxers. All he can think to say is, “You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to.” Dan easily pulls away from Arin’s half-hearted grip. “I want to.”

“Dan…” Arin’s voice is weak. In his hazy state, he forgets to push down all the things he’d never let himself think about Dan. They’re bubbling up to the surface, all the little pangs of _want_ and _can’t have, can’t think about, wrong wrong wrong_. “’M…too tired to make it good.”

“It’s okay,” Dan says huskily. “You don’t have to do anything, I told you.”

“But - ”

“Just let me make you feel good. Let me take care of you.”

Arin’s breath stutters at that, and then his underwear is being pulled down and hi, okay, he’s got about two-thirds of an erection, and when Dan scoots down the bed to nuzzle it, it stiffens and swells to full mast.

It’s wrong, God, it’s so fucking wrong on so many different moral levels. Arin’s a horrible person and he’s going to hell for this. He’s going to hell and he doesn’t care because Dan’s mouth is on him, wet and hot and eager.

“Dan,” he tries to say, and all that comes out is a moan.

Dan’s tongue laves up the underside of his shaft, and when he pulls off he laps across the sensitive head almost reverently. Arin can’t _breathe_ , can’t think, it’s so good. Dan has one hand around the base, and his other hand is petting at Arin’s thigh, the curve of his belly, like he can’t get enough. 

His hair falls in his face, and Arin reaches down and gathers it in his hands. He’s rewarded with a throaty moan that turns Arin’s knees to jelly, and he would have fallen if he’d been standing. He doesn’t push Dan’s head down, because maybe he has some tiny bit of polite consideration left in him, but Dan strains forward anyway. Arin’s cock bumps up against the back of Dan’s throat, and when Dan chokes a little but doesn’t stop, Arin moans again.

“Danny,” he says, and it’s like a dam breaking. “That’s…that’s so good, fuck.”

Dan sort of twitches at that, and Arin gets it. “Such a good boy, Danny.”

Dan doesn’t stop. His rhythm starts smooth, and then it gets shaky, and Arin sees the reason when he glances down and sees Dan’s hand on his own dick. He’s not even fully out of his boxers, but it’s more than Arin’s ever seen. He can’t take his eyes off of it. 

_He’s hard for me. He likes this._ Arin moans again, and Dan reacts with even more enthusiasm. His head bobs in Arin’s lap, and Arin starts to roll his hips into the rhythm. 

Dan moans and shoves his boxers down to mid-thigh for better access. Arin watches Dan’s hand work up and down, in time with his mouth on Arin’s dick. Arin can see the slight curve of his ass. His face looks desperate, sinful, beautiful. The wiry muscles in his thighs flex as he moves. Fuck, he’s so worked up, he’s trying so hard to please Arin, he’s _getting off_ on just pleasing Arin. 

“Good boy,” Arin says softly, hardly believing the words coming out of his mouth. 

Dan shudders and sucks air through his nose, working Arin with lips and tongue, sloppy as his strokes speed up.

 _This isn’t real. None of this is real._ But it sure as fuck feels real, more real than anything Arin’s felt in a long time. 

_Fuck, I’m going to come_.

He doesn’t realize he’s spoken out loud until Dan pulls off wetly, looks up at him with fire, and says, “Yeah, me too. Do it, in my mouth, want to taste you”, and oh fuck, this isn’t real life. Can’t be real life. Things this good don’t happen to shitbags like Arin.

The sight of Dan’s hips bucking, his cum spilling over his fine-boned fingers, is finally too much. Arin doesn’t even warn Dan before he’s coming too, filling Dan’s gasping little mouth. Twin rivulets spill out from the corners of Dan’s lips, curving around his strong jaw. Dan’s Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, and Arin feels drunk.

_What the hell did I just do?_

Arin is so incredibly fucked. 

Dan kisses his softening cock, wipes the jizz off his chin, and hugs Arin’s thighs.

They lay there for a while until Dan murmurs something and gets up. Arin stares up at the ceiling and listens to the sound of water running, Dan brushing his teeth. He closes his eyes and, unbidden, a thought creeps in. 

He imagines himself in a different bedroom, more plain, the bed all in cream and white, and on the wall is the big NY Giants carved wooden sign that Arin had bought Dan from an Etsy store on a whim. 

He can still see the genuine surprise on Dan’s face when he’d found it on his desk. He can still see the megawatt smile Dan had given him, the way he’d clung to Arin’s shoulders when they hugged, the feeling of Dan’s heart beating against his own. Things he wasn’t supposed to think about. Things that were forbidden.

Dan turns the lights off, and in the dark, they might be anywhere. The bed dips when he crawls in beside Arin.

Arin keeps his eyes closed and pulls Dan into his arms.


	6. Guardian Angel

“Okay,” Arin says, from the relative privacy of the backyard. “So, I really need someone to talk to.”

He knows Ross is out of town. He knows that usually, when Ross doesn’t specify where he’s going, it’s code for _don’t bother me_. Arin isn’t exactly a stranger to living with adult ADHD; he knows how challenging it is to maintain a busy, carefully scheduled life, constantly reining in the bursts of energy to try and direct it to mundane things. One of the reasons he was able to work for Arin so easily was that Arin understood him and didn’t try to demand steady hours. He could trust Ross to get what needed to be done, done.

It wasn’t often that Arin violated Ross’s privacy with a phone call during one of these breaks. But, desperate times.

Ross didn’t call him out on it. He’d just said, “Give me twenty minutes” and called Arin back in ten. And now Arin’s hiding out in his own backyard, having given Dan the excuse of ‘work stuff’ when he asked who was calling, and hoping that wasn’t terribly out of character for him. 

“I‘m listening,” Ross says carefully. Arin’s not used to Ross sounding guarded. 

“Now where the hell do I start?” Arin sighs and sits in one of the poolside chairs. It’s hot as fuck and he’s grateful for the big umbrella canopy and palm trees that block out the blazing sun. “Actually, okay, so congratulations on the Emmy nomination, holy shit.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Ross lets out a little bark of unbelieving laughter. “You just heard about that.”

“Dan told me.”

“This is so weird, that you don’t already know. Yeah, so. Fourth time’s the charm, I hope. The awards ceremony is coming up - ”

“Dan said you wanted me to come.”

“Well, I mean, yeah. You don’t have to? But you’d be getting an Emmy too. It’s kind of a big deal.”

“I get the little statue thing?” That bounces around on the surface of Arin’s mind and doesn’t really sink in. “Is the Emmy the one where the angel girl is hanging from the chandelier?”

“She’s holding an atom, actually.”

“That makes less sense than what I said.” Arin tries to picture it - himself, on stage at one of those televised shows, giving his best TV smile. He can’t see it. “So, do all the writers get one?”

There’s a beat of silence. “The writers?”

“That’s what I do, isn’t it? For your show?”

“Well yeah, but also - you’re the co-executive producer.”

“Oh.” Arin had missed that little detail on his quick IMDB search. He leans back in the chair and absorbs that a few times. “How in the fuck do I have time for that?”

“Are you serious? That’s not the same in your universe? I don‘t know how I’d ever do Gameoverse without you. You’re the negotiator, the marketing guy, you’re the one that convinced the studio to broadcast the program - you did _everything_ for me, how could I ever - ”

Arin has to break in. “I, uh, I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a dick, but um. In my universe, Gameoverse has been a work in progress for about eight years now.”

“As in - ”

“As in it’s not on primetime TV. It’s not even on Youtube. You’re working on it like crazy, and we wrote a bunch of episodes together, but it’s. Far from complete.”

“It’s still on hiatus. Like back when I was doing Steam Train with Dan.”

“I mean, it’s further along than that, but. Basically, yeah.”

“But what the hell, Arin. I - this is so messed up.”

Arin snorts. “A wizard put a spell on me and I woke up married to my best friend and you’re only figuring out _now_ that things are messed up?”

“Look, I didn’t know what the fuck to think. It was early. You were half coherent. I figured maybe this would be like, a one-day thing.”

“What do you mean, you figured? Do you have experience with cross-dimensional travel?”

Ross’s voice is climbing in pitch. “Well - fuck, I thought it would be like a movie or some shit! You come here, you learn a thing, you get sent back home. Roll credits.”

“I’m learning jack shit, so better get used to me.”

“You _sound_ like you. You act like you.” Ross sounds confused and a little helpless. Arin feels bad for roping him into his fucked up Alice in Wonderland mess. “I didn’t think your life would be so different.”

“I _am_ me. I’m still Arin, I think. Just. A shittier version than what you’re used to.”

“So you think you’re like, the dark side of mirror Arin.”

“Feels that way.”

“Well, it’s too bad you both have a goatee.”

“What? Why?” 

“Do you have a birthmark somewhere? You know, so I’ll know which one to shoot?”

That’s a stupid joke, but it hits Arin right in the goddamn giggle dick, and before he knows it, he’s laughing, laughing like a crazy person. Ross is right there with him. It’s the kind of laughter that’s one step away from sobbing. It’s exactly the kind of reaction Arin would have expected from Ross, and in a weird way, it comforts him to know that while the _details_ of their friendship are all fucked up here, they still interact in almost the same way.

Ross is the first to tip the scale over to the side of hysteria. His breath turns ragged and one of his giggles gets stuck in his throat. “Fuck,” he says hollowly, then hiccups. “But - what if - Arin, what if you guys just…don’t switch back? Ever?”

“It’s only been two days so far,” Arin says, like he’s not scared of that too. His first instinct is always to comfort, to protect, and Ross is distressed.

“Still. Our show…all of our projects…Dan’s tour…not to mention Game Grumps…”

Arin adds _NSP tour_ to the mental list of things he needs to do follow-up research on. “What about them?”

“Are you going to try and just, act the part?”

“Unless you have a better idea.” Arin’s sudden burst of laughter had left him feeling drained.

“I don’t, but - Arin, how the hell are you going to pull this off?”

Ross isn’t attacking him. Arin knows that. It doesn’t stop his rush of conflict adrenaline. “I don’t know, okay? I’m sorry I’m not him.”

“Well, fuck, don’t be sorry,” Ross says, deflating almost instantly. “I’m pretty sure none of this is your fault.” 

“That’s the thing, though.” Arin glances at the house, wondering where Dan is. He’s pretty sure Dan won’t be able to hear anything so long as he doesn’t shout. “So I’m beginning to think that maybe it is. This is like, some sort of fucked-up cosmic punishment.”

“Cosmic punishment?”

“Because I was such a - a monumental douche bag in the real universe - ”

“ _Your_ universe. This one’s real too, Arin.”

“Right, yeah.” Arin still has a hard time grasping that one. “Uh, sorry.”

Ross sighs loudly into the phone. “You can stop being sorry. I get it, okay?”

“I wasn’t sure if questioning the validity of your existence counted as especially rude.”

That makes Ross laugh for real. “Given the circumstances, I forgive you.”

“Thanks.”

“So tell me more about why being here is such punishment.”

“That’s the thing.” Arin gets up from the pool chair with a squeak and paces the length of the pool. “It’s not punishment. It’s perfect here. Everything here is just - it’s what could have been. Like someone wants to rub my face in it. Like holy fuck, I have a nice house. Have you been here? Have you seen this shit?” Arin doesn’t wait for Ross to answer. “And yours, too. You live in a mansion and drive a Mercedes.”

“Money isn’t everything, Arin. And what does my life have to do with your cosmic punishment?”

“We had a fight a few days before the wizard guy showed up.”

“Yeah, you told me. So?”

“It was worse than I let on.”

“Unless you like, punched me or something, I can’t see how - ”

“I made fun of you for having your show on hiatus for so long , and uh.” _Don’t try to sugar-coat it._ “Scratch that. I told you your characters were shit and basically called you lazy, and threw it in your face that I helped you get started at the Grump space.”

Arin can’t see Ross’s reaction. And he’s glad for that. He listens to Ross breathe, silently taking it all in.

Ross is subdued when he speaks again. “Where you come from…are we not friends, or…”

“We’re best fucking friends. Since we were teenagers on Newgrounds and you taught me how to use Flash, and pretty much supported me in every single way you could ever since.” Arin feels wetness on his face and when he goes to wipe it away he realizes that he’s tearing up. 

“Arin,” Ross says softly. “It’s okay. Obviously I don’t know what happened, but you must not have been in your right mind.”

“Yeah? How would you know?”

“I know you. At least, I know the other you. And you sound just like him. You value your friends more than anything else in the world, and what you said to me must be killing you inside. You would have apologized by now, if you could.”

Arin has to sit down at the edge of the pool. He kicks off his flip-flops and sticks his feet in the water. 

“So,” Ross continues, “if you’re the same Arin, the other Ross must still be me. If I were him, I’d forgive you.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I am. Maybe I’d be pissed at first. But I would figure that it was a mistake, and that you’d come to me eventually to talk it out. Like we always do. We’ve been through shit before.”

That’s, well, that’s pretty much true. “I was an asshole when I was younger. I did say some shitty things to you.”

“Yeah, well, I worked through those issues watching you suffer through all my Mario Maker episodes.”

Arin is ridiculously glad that happened here too. A pleasant memory of Grumping with Dan pops up in his head. Ross would come to the window to watch, a gleeful smirk on his face. It always made Dan laugh to see him.

“Thanks, Ross.”

“Anytime, man. So hey, if that can’t be the reason why you’re here - ”

“How do you know it’s not?” Arin isn’t ready to tell Ross about all the other asshole things he did. Dan’s crumpled face swims up in his head, the way he looked when Arin had told him he wanted out.

“Wouldn’t you fade away or something? Like Bruce Willis at the end of _Sixth Sense_.”

“He faded away because he was dead.”

“Because he found the reason that _his_ wizard guy didn’t send him to heaven right away or whatever.”

“I’m pretty sure, in that case, it wouldn’t be a wizard. Probably an angel if anything.”

“Yeah, like a guardian angel, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Arin echoes. “That sounds right.”

“So there’s something else you have to do, probably. That’s how it would work in a movie. You have to like, do some good deed, or change this world for the better, and then you’ll just. Go back to your world.”

“That brings up another problem.” This one is going to be harder to say out loud. Arin’s already dreading it. “About, um. You know.” 

“Your husband?”

Arin’s brain blips out for a second, but he’s getting more used to that word, and that word being associated with Dan. “Yeah, except. He’s not my husband. He’s other-Arin’s husband, but I - I let him - ”

Ross is quick on the draw. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Was it not good?”

“I don’t think that’s the point. I - I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Why not? That weird, huh?”

“No, fuck. It was.” _Fucking amazing._ “Never mind how it was. The point is that it was wrong.”

“You guys are married.”

Arin stares at his ring. “I’m a fucking impostor.”

“Like I said, you’re still Arin. The more I talk to you, the more I’m sure about that. It’s not like you’re some rando controlling Arin’s body.”

 _And he’s the same Dan, everything about him. Same Dan. Same Ross._

“And it’s not like you have a better option. You could hurt Dan’s feelings and not touch him, but. Where does that get you, you know? The angel told you to play along, right?”

“We’re going with angel now?”

“It sounds better than wizard. Wizards don’t have the power to do what was done to you.”

“Do you have a magical encyclopedia or something?” Arin demands, but he can feel himself smiling. He sort of loves when Ross suddenly becomes an expert at something he can’t possibly know anything about. It’s especially great because, more often than not, Ross actually manages to hit on the truth most of the time. 

“Everyone knows angels outrank wizards,” Ross claims. “And an angel wouldn’t tell you to do something wrong. Otherwise it wouldn’t be an angel.”

“Have you seen _Supernatural_ , though?”

“You’re missing the point.”

“No, I got it. So you’re saying it’s okay that I let Dan blow me.” Arin hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Ross honks out a laugh. “Okay, how were you supposed to say no to that?”

“Easily!” _Except, holy shit, not really._

“You’re feeling guilty over a beej?”

“A dishonest beej.”

“You couldn’t help it, though. Maybe it was meant to happen.”

“What.”

“If an angel sent you here to learn stuff or whatever, he must have known what would happen. Why would he tell you to play along, and give you anniversary gifts, and pretty much guarantee that Dan would want to bang you that night?”

“Maybe it was a test,” Arin tries, but that sounds lame. The chokehold of guilt is loosening. 

“Ninety-nine point nine percent of people would fail that test, Arin.”

“But is it fair to Dan?”

“Look, I can see where you’re coming from, alright? But I wouldn’t worry. Dan loves you, okay, and you’re still you. You’re still the guy he married, just with some different memories and experiences.”

“When did you start making so much sense?” Arin runs a hand through his hair. “Or am I just going crazy?”

“So did I help?”

Arin isn’t sure he’s made any progress, but he does feel like he’s stopped slipping backward. “A lot, actually.” He’d been planning on asking Ross to fill in some details for him about this world, maybe make him a cheat sheet. But the more he thinks about it, the more impossible it sounds. How would Ross ever know what was different about this world? 

“Good. Listen, Arin, I’m sorry, I gotta go. I’m really busy and Holly’s waiting - ”

“It’s okay, I knew you were busy. Tell Holly I’m sorry for keeping you. I’ll text you later?”

“Yeah, keep in touch. If you’re still there when I get back in town, I’ll come over for a bit. Or have you and Dan over here. We’ll work this out, the two of us.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, Arin.”

Arin sits in one of the pool chairs and leans all the way back, staring up at the sky. The sun is making him feel kind of slow and logy and sticky. It’s easy to get lost in his thoughts and lose track of time.

He doesn’t know how long he lays there before Dan comes out to check on him. Arin hears a _clink_ and cracks open his eyes behind his sunglasses just in time to see Dan tuck himself into the chair next to him. On the table are two glasses of something clear and fizzy, both full of ice. 

“Thanks,” Arin says, genuinely surprised and pleased. It turns out to be sparkling water. Arin downs half the glass in one go. 

“Figured you’d like it. It’s like a hundred and fifty degrees out here.” Dan kicks off his shoes and plucks off his socks with his toes. “Did you and Ross get everything sorted out?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Good,” Dan answers, a little absently. “I’m glad.” He looks up at the sky too, then closes his eyes with a relaxed little sigh. Arin doesn’t know what else to say, and maybe it doesn’t matter, because the silence that falls feels comfortable and natural.

After a while - minutes, an hour, who even knew - Arin opens his mouth and words just - come out. “Do you ever wonder how your life could be different if you’d just, like…made one small decision in the past that changed everything?”

Dan opens his eyes. He looks puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Like…” Arin’s hand flops up in a vague gesture. “When you think about how everything that is the way it is now is all the result of the combination of all the decisions you’ve ever made, mundane or not, and then you realize how many choices you have to make every day, and how there are literally billions of outcomes.”

“I think I saw that Ashton Kutcher movie.” Dan grins. “Of course I’ve thought about it. I think everyone does sometimes.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure. Like sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t answered that email you sent, or if I’d never come to LA to meet you.”

Fuck, Arin had thought about that a thousand times.

“I’m so lucky that you did,” Arin tells him, his voice catching.

Dan pushes up his sunglasses to look at Arin. “Yeah, that’s what I tell myself almost every day.”

Arin reaches out across the table to nudge his arm against Dan’s, not trusting himself to speak. He wonders if the Dan back in his own universe would still think the same way after Arin’s outburst. And he’s not sure if he wants to know the answer. Unconsciously, he gropes for Dan’s hand, feeling like he needs something to anchor him in place. 

“You’re being schmoopy,” Dan observes.

“Yeah. A little, yeah.”

“Any particular reason?”

“Do I need one?”

Dan shrugs. Arin doesn’t see it, but he feels the motion through Dan’s hand. “No. It’s just, different from how you’ve been all day.”

“How have I been all day?”

Dan hesitates a little too long.

Arin says, “I’m not trying to like, grill you or start a fight. I just want to know.”

“You’ve been distant,” Dan admits.

“Distant?” Arin echoes, like he hadn’t spent forty-five minutes in the shower that morning, freaking out about what they did together the night before.

“But, I mean, I understand. You’re stressed, tired…you have a lot of work on your plate…”

“Dan, no. Don’t try to make it right. If I’m being a dick, tell me, okay? I’m sorry for being distant.”

Dan squeezes his hand. “Okay. That’s okay. I don’t mind if you’re busy, usually. I know you’ll always make time for me when you can.”

Arin is almost used to the way Dan’s sweetness makes his chest ache with guilt. It hurts in a way that tunnels down his throat and tightens it, making it hard to speak and harder to breathe. 

When he can, he ventures, “So do you think, maybe, there’s a universe where we never met at all?”

That idea has always terrified Arin. Dan just shrugs it off, metaphorically this time. “Not really.”

“Why not?” _If you don’t believe in the multi-verse theory, I have some news that will blow your mind._

“I don’t know. I guess I just kinda think that some things are meant to happen.”

“Like fate or destiny?”

“Sort of?” Dan shifts in his chair and crosses his legs. “But not in a, you know, free will is an illusion, you can’t escape the inevitable, way. So, think less Oedipus or Macbeth and more…oh, I don’t know.”

“Was Macbeth the one where the guy talks to the skull?”

“That’s Hamlet, Arin.”

“Well, I didn’t go to college, okay, Mr. Smartypants.” 

“Macbeth is the one where this Scottish guy hears a prophecy from some witches about how he would become king, so he goes and kills the current king to make it come true. Then he gets super paranoid and ends up going to the witches again, and, well, long story short, there are more prophecies that he tries to stop from happening and they all just end up fucking him over…and Oedipus is the one where - ”

“He banged his mom. I know that one.”

Dan snorts. “Yeah, and all because he heard a prophecy that he was going to kill his dad and bang his mom, and he basically did everything he could to try and avoid that but his efforts just, ended up making it happen.”

“That’s pretty fucked up.”

“Hell yeah it is. And then he stabbed his own eyes out when he found out.”

“That part is understandable.”

Dan laughs and sits up to reach for his drink. “Anyway,” he resumes. “What I think is that we’re given a bunch of chances to take the right path. Maybe we make a few wrong turns, or take a detour, but we all get to where we’re supposed to be, on our own time. And if you’re going backward, you can always turn around.” He looks thoughtful, pensive. “I think, deep down, we all know the destination. Life is just about figuring out how to get there.”

Arin has to reach for his drink to swallow down the lump in his throat. He doesn’t try to speak, he just grabs onto Dan’s hand and gives it a clumsy squeeze. Out loud he says, “Fuck” and it comes out as blurry as his eyes.

“What?” Dan interlocks their fingers. “You alright, Ar’?”

“That’s just. Dunno.” Words are hard. “I - I like that, what you said. It’s very.” It makes something desperate and panicked in Arin’s chest finally settle, makes his pessimism fade. “It’s beautiful.”

Dan gives him one of his genuine smiles, the one that starts in his eyes and cheeks and blossoms out slowly . It’s not his usual easy grin, the one that pops out for anybody. It’s softer, more intimate. Arin’s only seen it a handful of times. “Thanks, baby girl.”

For a moment, with Dan’s eyes locked on his, Arin can think of nothing else. An earthquake could have turned the house into a pile of rubble and Arin wouldn’t have noticed, or cared. Something is tugging at his mind, pulling at him, and he can’t stand it, it’s too much. 

“Wanna go for a swim?” he blurts before things get dangerous.

Dan looks at the pool doubtfully. “It’ll be cold. The heater hasn’t been on.”

“You’re always cold. When are you not cold?”

“When the water is eighty-five degrees. Why didn’t we get a hot tub, again?”

“Did you like, hibernate all winter when you lived on the East Coast?”

“I always thought hibernating sounded kind of nice.” But, abruptly, Dan swings his legs over the side of the chair and peels his T-shirt up over his head. “I’ll go in if you warm me up after.”

Usually Arin would make a raunchy joke, go in for the obvious. But he’s still feeling a little unsteady, a little out of this world, a little - well, schmoopy. “I could use some cuddle time.”

“Quality cuddle time from your snuggle man?”

Every damn time this Dan says something that the other Dan would say, it makes Arin smile. 

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I’d like that.”

Dan’s bare chest is white as marble in the brilliance of the sun. Arin stares as he unabashedly strips down to his underwear and heads toward the stairs at the shallow end of the pool. He combs his hair back with his fingers and ties it with the elastic on his wrist. Arin remembers how that hair felt in his hands, coarse and soft at once.

The memory circles his mind, floods his veins, and it won’t go away. Arin has to do something, anything.

Arin gets a running start and jumps off from the deep end, wearing nothing but his boxers. 

The water is pure and cold, snapping him back into the present. Arin comes to the surface, spluttering “Jesus _fuck!_ My dick disappeared!”

Dan’s laughter echoes across the pool as Arin does a frantic, clumsy front crawl toward him, complaining every time his face pops out of the water.

Maybe he’s still not learning much, and maybe he should be. But this - this he can handle for now. This isn’t home, but it’s starting to feel close enough.


	7. Fool's Gold

Six days in, and Arin isn’t any closer to any sort of revelation.

It’s partly his fault. He hasn’t really been trying very hard. It’s _fun_ here, with his best friend at his side, the two of them joking around and laughing and staying up at night talking about everything under the sun. 

Arin hadn’t fully realized how much he missed the constant company, the slow lazy mornings cuddling in bed with someone he loves. He’s able to sleep through the night and wake up feeling like himself. Dan likes to be the big spoon, and every morning when he wakes up, he kisses the back of Arin’s neck and sends prickles down Arin’s spine.

Arin knows he has to go home eventually, but he’s also not in any rush.

They’re having a lazy morning today. Or is it noon yet? Arin doesn’t know. Dan’s in his natural state of total relaxation - drowning in a nest of blankets on the couch, poking around on his phone. Arin’s purposely positioned himself with his back to the arm of the couch, facing Dan head on so that Dan can’t see his laptop screen. Dan’s labouring under the impression that Arin the workaholic is busy with something involving, well, work. In reality, though, Arin’s combing his own social media accounts, the Game Grumps accounts and Youtube page, and Wikipedia for clues on what was going on in this universe. 

It’s for the research, Arin tells himself. It’s all for the ultimate goal of getting enlightened like Buddha and getting beamed back into the sad life he calls home.

Really, though, he’s just snooping because it’s all pretty fascinating.

The Grumps channel is pretty much the same. All the big series are there. Some are missing, sure, and others are slightly different - in this world, they’re up to episode 200 of Super Mario Maker, and somehow they had done a complete playthrough of Majora’s Mask - but at a glance, nothing much has changed. Arin wishes he could hibernate somewhere with some headphones and listen to some of the series in their entirety. It would be interesting to see how they interacted with each other. And Arin’s sure they’d both have some stories to tell that would illuminate much more of their lives and careers

“Who did you call in Florida?” 

Dan’s voice jerks Arin out of his introspective stupor. “Hmm?” he mumbles back, blinking. Staring at the computer screen had left his eyes feeling dry and strained.. 

“Florida,” Dan says absently. Only then does Arin realize that Dan’s not holding his own phone. He’s holding Arin’s. “I recognize the area code.”

It takes Arin a minute to remember his attempts to call Suzy. His fingers slip on the keyboard of his laptop. He opens his mouth to tell the truth - Arin’s first instinct is always honesty - but he closes it again quickly. He doesn’t know how out of character it was for him to try calling Suzy out of nowhere, especially on his and Dan’s anniversary.

“What are you doing with my phone?” 

Dan looks up at him with mild surprise. “Mine died. I want to order some food.”

“Oh.” Okay, so that’s a thing they did. That’s good to know. “My brother got a new number.” 

Arin only remembers that Dan must be seeing two outgoing calls after he’d come up with that flimsy lie. _Shit._

But Dan is trusting, guileless. At least he is when it comes to Arin. And why not? His Arin had likely never given him a reason not to trust him. He just says, “Oh, okay. You want anything from Siam Corner?”

The lie had left a bad taste in Arin’s mouth. He shifts uneasily. “Maybe some Thai fried rice, with chicken?”

“’Kay.” Dan pokes around some more, then nudges Arin’s phone onto the coffee table with a sigh. 

Arin glances at him out of the corner of his eye. He’s looking at the TV, but Arin doesn’t think he’s really watching the program. Maybe he’s bored. Arin’s not being the best company today. 

He clicks around aimlessly, not sure where to go next. It feels kind of strange, with Dan sitting right there, but he ends up on Suzy’s Instagram. She has the same username here on all her public social media. Everything except Youtube. There is no _Mort3mer_ on Youtube, no variation of that spelling, no _KittyKatGaming_. Arin can’t tell if that’s relevant or not. She seems perfectly happy without those projects. In every picture, she’s smiling and radiant. There are selfies and pictures of herself with her siblings, and Arin can tell that Suzy still lives in Florida or damn close to it. 

_That must make her happy_. The only thing Suzy disliked about California was the distance between herself and her big family. 

Arin thinks Suzy looks pretty as a dark honey blonde. It makes him feel good to see her smile. But there’s something missing when he looks into her eyes. He’s not getting that old flutter in his stomach, that sharp little ache of something missing inside him. Probably because something in him knows that this Suzy isn’t the one that he married.

Or maybe, more likely, he’s just become numb. So much had happened to him in the last week. It’s no wonder his brain feels so full, like there’s no time to mope about his ex-wife.

But then, suddenly, something cautiously optimistic wakes up inside him. Maybe - just maybe - he’s finally getting over what happened. 

Arin frowns. Huh. There’s a concept. They did say time heals all wounds, and though it hadn’t been that long since she left for good, it had been months since he knew it was over.

Arin mulls over that as he clicks around some more. Back to his own Instagram - which is the same as ever, but with about sixty percent more Dan - and then a brief foray into Ross’s - and from there it’s only natural that he ends up on Dan’s.

The most recent shot kicks him in the gut. Dan had taken a picture of the roses Arin had given him for their anniversary. He’d put them in a tall glass vase and Arin had seen him changing the water and cutting the stems religiously. The caption is simple, sweet.

_I’m so lucky to be with him._

Arin’s watch - white gold, he’d since learned - feels warm on his wrist. He closes the laptop firmly and looks at the man next to him.

“Hey, Dan?”

“Mm?”

“You know why you’re so cold?”

“Because I’m a skeleton with undiagnosed circulation problems?”

“Maybe. But I was gonna say that it’s because you’re all the way over there.”

Anyone else would have groaned. But Dan’s different - even the real Dan likes Arin’s schmoopy side. He does roll his eyes, but he can’t help the smile. “Well. I can change that.” 

“Come here, then.” Arin opens his arms.

Dan scooches toward him, wriggling out of the blanket like a very clumsy snake shedding its skin. He flips over and leans his upper body back onto Arin’s chest. Arin anchors him there with his arms around Dan’s chest.

“You’re done with work stuff?”

Arin has to smooth Dan‘s hair down to keep it from crawling up his nose. “Yeah, I think so. Sorry about that.”

“No, I get it. It feels weird to be so lazy.” Dan stretches his legs out in front of him. “I’m enjoying it, but at the same time I feel so off balance without a routine. If I don’t have a million things to do, it just doesn’t feel right.”

“I know what you mean. Maybe we should go out and do something tonight.”

“Like a movie?”

Arin shrugs, which only ends up jostling Dan’s head. “I was thinking something more active?”

“What, you wanna go to the gym?”

“Not _that_ active.” But actually, for the first time in weeks, Arin does kind of miss working out. He did like to take care of himself. Usually. “Maybe a walk?”

Dan considers that. “Maybe, yeah. It‘s just as hot as yesterday though.”

“ _You’re_ just as hot as yesterday.”

“Well thank you, I try.” Arin can’t see Dan’s face but he knows he’s smiling. “You’re not too bad yourself, I guess.”

It’s a joke, obviously, but Arin doesn’t answer. For one fleeting second, he thinks of the twenty pounds he’d packed on after Suzy left, the lack of definition in his arms, feeling huge and ungainly and stupid. That one second is enough to make Dan turn around, his eyes soft. “Baby girl,” he says, in that fucking voice that made Arin’s stomach flip, “you get more beautiful every day.”

How is he supposed to think straight when Dan’s looking at him like that? Arin stares at him, like the big dumb idiot he is, and he’s not sure what expression he’s making but Dan apparently reads it as _kiss me now_ , and he does.

It’s an awkward angle. Dan is kind of crushing Arin’s chest and he’s twisted in a way that can’t be comfortable. Dan breaks the kiss first, laughing a little at himself, and then he plants his hands behind Arin’s head and braces himself over top of him. 

_Jesus._ Their lower bodies are flush against each other, and with Dan just wearing thin cotton pyjama pants, Arin can distinctly feel - a lot of him. He tries to adjust his grip on Dan’s sides, but since Dan’s T-shirt is riding up, Arin’s hands grab onto warm, smooth bare skin. Dan’s waist is so small, his body easy to grip and lift and manhandle. Arin’s brain floods with images that he does his best to ignore and he squeezes more tightly. 

Dan makes a little noise as he lets out a breath and Arin feels heat rush to his face.

“Arin Hanson, are you blushing?” Dan runs a hand through Arin’s hair, pushing it away from his face. “Since when do you blush?”

“I, uh.” He doesn’t fucking know how to answer that. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to, because Dan drops to his elbows and presses his mouth against Arin’s again, muffling whatever dumb excuse was about to come out.

Arin is getting better at this. He holds onto Dan more tightly and kisses him back, letting Dan lead, doing his best to ignore the blood rushing downward. Dan makes it hard, though - no pun intended - as he’s shifting his hips, purposely rubbing against him, teasing. The friction is making Arin feel like he’s going to explode.

Arin attributes his instant physical reaction to the memory of their anniversary night. Right or wrong, weird or not, whatever was going on with Arin’s sexuality, he couldn’t deny that Dan was fucking fantastic at giving oral sex. Maybe that shouldn’t have been a surprise. Real-world Dan had publicly proclaimed that he loved doing it, at least to women. Arin’s never sucked dick but he figures the general concept is the same - getting pleasure from pleasing someone else, basking in their moans and gasps.

Shit, fuck, his mind is definitely speeding down the wrong road. Arin gasps into the kiss and grips Dan’s waist more tightly.

Dan breaks off and lets Arin breathe. There’s fire in his eyes and a roguish smirk on his lips. “Still blushing,” he observes, his voice a little ragged, and then he’s kissing Arin’s neck, right where Arin is most sensitive. Arin groans, tilting into it, his hands unconsciously sliding down to Dan’s hips, and back around to his ass. 

“Trying to tell me what you want, huh?” Dan murmurs into his ear, his voice deep and sultry. “Fuck, Arin.” He sits up straighter, arching his back, smoothly angling himself so that Arin’s dick nestles up right in his cleft, and holy mother of God it feels good, too good, filling Arin with want and guilt and fear all at once.

Arin opens his mouth and he has no idea what might have come out if his phone hadn’t gone off at that exact moment. The noise makes them both jerk reflexively, and Arin comes crashing back down to earth at the loss of the warmth and friction.

Dan groans and peels himself away from Arin. “That’ll be our food. Fuck, the one time I _don’t_ want them to be fast…”

“Our what?” 

“We ordered food, remember?”

That sounds vaguely familiar. Arin blinks and stirs feebly. “Yeah, uh, sure.”

Dan laughs and picks up the phone, already adjusting himself in his pants and smoothing his frizzy hair back into place as he makes his way to the door. 

Arin sits up and stretches. He takes several deep breaths, and eventually his body starts to calm down. On the coffee table, his laptop is flashing the low battery light. Arin reaches for it, meaning to just turn it off, and then he sees that Dan’s Instagram is still up on the screen. One photo in particular catches Arin’s eye and makes him pause, frowning.

For a second he doesn’t realize why the picture seems so strange. He’s seen a million pictures of Dan onstage. He has to stop and look at the details, and then suddenly something doesn’t add up.

Dan’s not in costume. That could mean it’s Game Grumps Live, but Dan’s eyes are closed and he’s singing, singing his heart out, his arm outstretched to the crowd. Ten thousand hands stretch back out to him in answer. Arin doesn’t recognize the man behind him, playing guitar. There’s a spotlight on the guitarist too, but all eyes are on Dan, who looks wholly and completely in his element. His hair, backlit from the fire effects going off behind him, is a halo of crimson and gold curls. The still photo almost comes alive as Arin stares at it, transfixed.

He’s fucking beautiful. He’s so happy, and he’s _beautiful_ , but that’s not the point, shit, Arin should be trying to figure out what this is from, why Dan’s singing onstage. And the damn caption’s no help, it just says _Thank you, New York!_ and what is Arin supposed to do with that? Arin just keeps staring, his brain buzzing, his lower lip caught between his teeth.

“Are we eating in here?” Dan materializes out of nowhere. “Or should we not be big lazy fucks and actually go sit down at the table?”

“Table’s probably a good idea.” These couches look a lot nicer than the ones he has back home. 

Arin’s phone starts to ring again. Dan makes a face. “Jesus. Grand Central Station.”

It’s Ross this time. Arin grins and grabs for it. “Hanson’s Mule Farm, head ass speaking.”

Dan explodes into laughter.

Ross doesn‘t even hesitate. “Uh, yeah, I’d like to make a complaint. Your donkey bit off my rooster’s legs and now you’ve got two feet of my cock in your ass.”

“Ross!” Holly yells from somewhere in the background, and then Arin has to hold the phone away from his ear when Ross cackles loudly. “He started it!” Ross calls back to Holly, and then, to Arin, “That was pretty good, huh?”

“That was fucking stupid,” Arin tells him, but he’s grinning and he knows Ross knows it. “Are you guys back in town?”

“Got in this morning. We left super early, got home, went back to bed. Had a bit of a lie-in.” His voice drops a fraction of a decibel in volume, the closest thing Ross has to a whisper. “Dan’s right there with you, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“Well. I had an idea. Maybe you guys could come over in a bit?”

“Come over?” Arin echoes, mostly for Dan’s benefit. Dan meets Arin’s eyes and looks a little curious and a little excited at the idea. It’s hard to tell when he’s chewing.

“Yeah,” Ross says excitedly. “Like for a really small boring party. Brian and Rachel were already gonna come by, and so were Vernon and Matt. I could call Barry, maybe Jirard. Whoever else I can get a hold of on short notice.” He tries to whisper again. “See, that way, maybe you can talk to everybody, sort of mingle and, you know. Figure things out without a lot of pressure on you to hold up the conversation.”

Ross is fucking smart. Arin’s going to have to tell him so later. “Yeah, dude, sure. If Dan wants to, then yeah.”

Dan tilts his head, and Arin dips the phone away from his mouth and tells him, “Ross’s place. Small party. What do you think?”

Dan blows on a steaming skewer of chicken satay and shrugs. “Who else will be there?”

“Brian, Rachel, Barry, Matt…”

Dan’s already perked up at Brian’s name. “Okay, yeah! I haven’t seen Brian in way too long. We’re always so busy.”

Arin frowns, because that’s a weird thing to say. Brian’s around the Grump space a lot, and when he’s not, he’s often with Dan - writing, talking, brainstorming, rehearsing, composing, whatever other musical genius stuff they did together. Maybe Brian’s been on vacation or something.

“We’ll be there,” he says to Ross. “How does four o’clock sound? You want us to bring anything?”

“Hookers and blow.”

“We’re fresh out of both. It’s been a good week here. ”

“Oh,” Ross says. “Too bad. Just bring yourselves, then. Unless you want to bring swim stuff.”

“Swim stuff? Like our trunks, or -”

“I mean, you could wear that pink Speedo I know you have.”

“God, no, nobody needs to see me in a Speedo.” Arin isn’t sure if Ross is just fucking with him - who the fuck knew, with Ross? - but if he finds a pink Speedo in his closet, he’s going to do other-Arin a favour and throw it out.

Dan catches Arin’s eye. He lifts one eyebrow and tips Arin a wink that’s definitely more comedic than lecherous, but it still gets Arin flustered.

Fucking again with the blushing. Arin has to get that under control.

“So four o’clock,” Arin says quickly. “We’ll be there.”

**

“So,” Ross says, corralling Arin into the kitchen as soon as he has the chance, “how are things going here in Wonderland, Alice?”

Arin plonks down at the table and looks out the back window. Dan’s conspicuous as hell in his bright blue shorts and extra-floofy hair blown silly from the wind. “Things are pretty good.”

“Why are you giving me like, elevator small talk? What do you mean, _pretty good_?”

“I dunno.” Arin honestly doesn’t mean to be so vague. “I like this world, I guess. I like spending time with Dan.”

Ross waggles his eyebrows.

“Dude,” Arin protests. “We haven’t - done that - since our anniversary.”

“Oh.” Ross slurps obnoxiously at a carton of milk. “Why not?”

Arin stares at Ross’s deceptively innocent eyes. The problem with Ross is that he doesn’t come off like a perceptive guy, but he _is_. His eyes are big and guileless - sort of like Dan’s, in that regard - but the longer they stared, the deeper they cut. Arin’s not gonna be able to get away with a lie, here. “I’m scared, okay?”

“Scared of what? His dick’s not gonna bite you.”

“I don’t know why, alright?” Arin bites the inside of his cheek in frustration. It’s not like Dan hadn’t been giving him signals, some more obvious than others. Arin had been able to come up with an excuse every time and so far Dan didn’t seem to mind. “It’s - Ross, I’m, mostly straight here and I’ve never - ”

“Wow, so it didn’t even take a week for you to go from ‘I’m straight’ to ‘I’m mostly straight’?”

“It’s kind of not cool to make fun of me for being in the process of figuring that shit out.”

Ross backs off instantly. “You’re right,” he says, more softly. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.” Arin takes a breath. Ross uses humour as a shield, just like Arin does. He has to remember that Ross is on his side here, and Ross probably wants his real friend and business partner back. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay. So. You’re getting used to things here,” Ross says, tapping his chin. “It’s good that you guys are taking so much time off. You’re not exactly in a time crunch. We still have time to figure this out. Well, until you go to Florida. Then you’re on your own.”

“You mean Bora Bora?”

Ross tilts his head. “No. Florida. You’re going there this weekend.”

“What the fuck do you mean I’m going to Florida?”

Ross sighs. “Didn’t Dan say anything?”

“No! What the fuck?”

“You’re going there next weekend to spend two days at your parents’ winter place down there. It was supposed to be like, your last vacation this year, and you were feeling bad because it was kind of short and lame. So then you wanted to take Dan somewhere super nice, and I guess you picked Bora Bora.”

“Florida,” Arin repeats numbly. “I wonder where Suzy lives. Fuck, Ross, do you think - no, that would be too goddamn convenient.”

“What would be too convenient?”

“If she lived close enough to just, drop in for a casual visit without it being weird. Like, oh, hey, I’m only half an hour away, and we haven’t seen each other in years, let’s catch up.”

“You want to meet up with your ex?” Ross looks alarmed. “Uh, Arin, I know that you’re like, from another universe, but you can’t just - cheat on Dan when he thinks you’re his husband.”

“Fuck, of course not.” The very idea of cheating makes Arin’s stomach churn. “I’d never - how could you think - ”

Ross throws up his hands. “Okay, well, it’s just weird, okay? How will she even help? She doesn’t know you very well. I know that must be weird, because you guys were married forever in your world - ”

“There’s something,” Arin insists. “There was a sign - ”

“A sign.”

“Yeah. In my house - like this one, where I live with Dan - I have one of her taxidermy pieces, and it’s the exact same one that I had back home.”

“So you bought something from your ex’s online store to support them. Not that weird.”

“Whatever, dude, fuck. It’s a lead. You got a better idea?”

Ross looks frustrated. “Well, not really, but - ”

“Fucking exactly. So look, this Suzy is happy, right? Like she seems happy, and successful. So there’s something in this life that she has here that was missing in my world. Something that I didn’t do for her or give to her. Maybe I can find out what that is.”

“So what do you do? ‘Hey, Suzy, can you tell me what you need most in a husband?’”

“I can talk to her. I know her. I’ll figure that part out later.”

“And meanwhile, Dan is…”

“I’ll figure that part out later, too. He’s not glued to my side, you know.”

“Uh-huh. And when he finds you out sneaking around with a girl without telling him - ”

“He won’t,” Arin says, but he lacks conviction. “Just, listen to me, Ross. Don’t you think it’s too much of a coincidence that I just happened to get sent here right before I’m going to where Suzy lives?”

“Not really. You go to Florida all the time. It’s your home state.”

“But it just so happens to be - ”

“Where your ex lives? Arin, it’s like the second-most populated state, it’s not that weird.”

“Third,” Arin corrects him absently, “and, like I said, unless you have a better idea - ”

“I don’t. And neither do you. I think you’re just grasping at straws.”

“At least I’m fucking trying,” Arin snaps, bristling. “What else can I do?”

Ross’s eyes cut into him again. “I just don’t want you to hurt Dan. He’s one of my best friends, and I love him.”

“I would never hurt him.” Dan’s crumpled face swims up in his mind for the hundredth or millionth time. Arin digs his nails into his palm. 

Ross just looks at him for a long time, his face pensive.

“What?” Arin asks, after the silence stretches out long enough to drive him crazy.

Ross drums a beat on the table with his fingers. “You know,” he says, carefully, “does it really seem like an angel would have to send you to another universe to just, figure out how to get back together with your ex? I mean, isn’t that a little too obvious?”

“Well fuck, what else could it be?”

“I dunno. I’m sure you love her a lot and I’m sure you guys had a great time together. But maybe there’s more than one way to be happy. Maybe she’s not the key to everything, you know?”

“But if she’s not, than what is? Why am I here?”

“See, that’s the kind of question an angel would have to help you answer.”

“That’s not really helpful, Ross.”

Ross just shrugs.

“I’m gonna email her again,” Arin decides. “I’m gonna send her my number, see if she wants to keep in touch. If she ignores it, then maybe I’ll try something else. But I have to see.”

Ross sighs. “I can’t tell you what to do because you’re a stubborn ass, but. Just be careful, okay?”

“Yeah.” Arin’s already got his phone out, tapping out the message and hitting send before he wimps out. 

“Incoming,” Ross says, and Arin looks up just in time to see Dan coming inside. 

“I thought this was a pool party,” Dan says, taking the chair opposite Ross. “What are you guys doing in here? If you’re talking about work, I’m going to throw you in the pool.”

“Why are you looking at me?” Ross protests. 

“Because you’re the only one I could conceivably throw anywhere.”

“It’s not work stuff,” Arin assures him. “We were just talking about, um, our trip this weekend.” Well, that wasn’t a lie at least.

“Oh. Well, you better come outside. Audrey and Claire are asking where you guys are. At least, Audrey is, and Claire made a sound that kind of sounded like she was agreeing.”

“Claire?” Arin asks, confused. “Who the hell is Claire?”

Ross winces a little, and Dan stares at Arin. Well, fuck, something else Arin should have known.

Ross comes to his rescue. “She’s getting so big. She’s going to look exactly like Brian, too.”

“Right?” Dan grins, though he‘s still looking kind of puzzled. “I love that she’s not scared of me, like Audrey was.”

Arin stands up quickly. Okay, so. New facts to absorb and remember. Brian has another kid. Cool. He probably should have noticed, but he’s been avoiding Brian. He has the feeling that Brian is going to take one look at him and just know something’s not right. Brian would never suspect the supernatural - he’s too logical for that - but he might start asking some pointed questions, or maybe even voicing a concern to Dan, who doesn’t need to become even the slightest bit suspicious. That’s the last thing Arin needs, especially when he’s trying to keep his plans to see Suzy a secret. “I’ll go out there and see them. Ross, are you coming too?”

“Sure,” Ross says easily, draining the last of his milk. He flips his sunglasses down and leads the way. 

Dan touches Arin’s shoulder gently, and when Ross is out of earshot he murmurs, “You okay, babe?”

“I’m fine.” Arin tries to chuckle. “Just had a stupid moment, that’s all. I went blank.”

“You’ve been pretty distracted lately,” Dan says softly. “Is there something going on?”

Fuck. “No.” _Say something better than that, fuck._ “Maybe I’m just getting old,” he tries to joke. “I’m a dinosaur, man.”

Dan lets it go. “If you’re the dinosaur now, then what does that make me?”

“A fossil. A trilobite fossil.”

That gets him a swat with the towel. Arin wrestles it away from him and chases him, past Ross, past Barry and Vernon, all the way out to the cabana, where Dan finally lets himself be caught. 

“Fucking gazelle,” Arin wheezes. “Jesus Christ.”

“Language, Arin,” Dan grins, and wriggles free. “Come on, let’s go see if we really can throw Ross in the pool.”

Arin looks out at the crowd, at all the familiar faces. His friends, his loved ones, looking the same as they did in his own universe. It hits him then how long it’s been since he’d seen some of them. He’d isolated himself as much as possible when things with Suzy started their downward slide. 

That was always Arin’s first line of defence when shit really hit the fan. Withdraw, withdraw, and loathe himself. Until recently, Suzy had always pulled him back up. Without her, who would?

“You go ahead,” Arin says to Dan. “I’m gonna say hi to Brian’s spawn, and then hang out with the guys for a bit.”

“Sure. I think I might jump in the hot tub to warm up.”

“Dan, it’s like ninety degrees out.”

“I get cold when I’m wet,” Dan explains. “What with the wind, and the water going down my back from my hair, and all.”

“I’ll come in with you in a bit,” Arin promises, and he really wants to, because the hot tub does sound pretty relaxing. But Ross threw this party for a reason, and while Arin thinks it’s futile, he’s going to try and make as much use of the time as he can.


	8. Breaking Point

Dan’s in the shower when it happens - when Suzy texts Arin for the second time, sometime in the late evening, the day after Ross’s party. Arin is at war with himself as he sits with his phone in front of him and his hands steepled beneath his chin, listening to Dan’s faint voice as he sings _Eye of the Tiger_ with gusto.

Part of him is wondering what Dan would do if Arin just went up there and got in the shower with him. He imagines the little noise of surprise Dan always makes when something startles him, followed by the burst of bright laughter and the embarrassed grin. He wonders if Dan would giggle and make jokes, or if he’d pin Arin to the cool tiled wall and kiss him hard, his big hands curling around Arin’s hips.

It’s easier to imagine these things when he’s alone. When Dan’s with him, he’s just _Dan_ , a reality and not a concept or wistful little _what if_ in the back of Arin’s head. Reality is harder to face. 

Arin passes a hand over his face and sighs. _Focus, for fuck’s sake._

What had happened the night of their anniversary already seemed so long ago. In Arin’s mind, the memory had the quality of a dream.

Arin hadn’t opened Suzy’s first text until he’d gotten home last night. He hadn’t wanted to, because he was a shit liar, and he wasn’t sure how his face would react. And somehow, he hadn’t been in the right mood.

The party was supposed to be helpful and informative. Arin had expected to glean _something_ useful from the gathering. But he’d just ended up having fun. They’d all lost track of time, everyone except Brian and Rachel, who had to leave early to put the kids to bed. The atmosphere shifted then, with the kids gone. Ross got out the vodka, and while Dan couldn’t partake and Arin chose not to, the chilled-out vibe was contagious. 

There was a sense of pleasant nostalgia as the sun set behind the hills. It hadn’t been that long since Arin chucked his life down the toilet, but it still felt like ages since he’d immersed himself in a crowd of people like this, outside of a work environment. When was the last time he’d even gone to a friend’s house just to hang out? 

He was a little rusty, a little out-of-touch, but he managed to blend in. Nobody noticed that anything was amiss, not even Brian. Only the kids had looked at him with doubt - Audrey had let him pick her up, after a questioning look at her parents, but Claire had just stared at him with icy blue eyes eerily reminiscent of her father in full-on ninja death glare mode. This was, Arin had learned, highly unusual from Claire, for whom Arin was apparently a perennial favourite. But aside from some puzzled glances from Brian and Rachel, nothing had come of it. 

That was, potentially, success. Arin was at least doing a good job blending in, as the angel guy had wanted him to. Then again, it could be absolutely irrelevant. Maybe the angel is looking down on him now, wondering why Arin had turned away from all the party guests to sit in the hot tub with Dan for an hour, barely speaking, just watching the copper and lavender sky fade into darkness. 

Arin’s kind of wondering the same thing. 

He sighs and shakes himself. He turns his phone over in his hands and swipes open his lock screen.

Suzy’s first text was bubbly and genuine but a little reserved, the persona she put on while on camera or while speaking to fans. That didn’t sting nearly as much as Arin would have thought. 

_Hi Arin! It’s so good to hear from you! How are you doing?_

It’s small talk, and bland small talk at that, but she’d also reached out to him first. She could have pretended to ignore the number he sent.

Suzy’s second text is simple, a little warmer. She’d sent him a picture of a jet-black kitten curled up perfectly in a potted plant, with the caption, _I almost watered him!_

Arin tries to think of how in the hell he’s supposed to reply. He doesn’t know how to make this kind of small talk with Suzy. If he’s going to pursue this lead, he’s going to have to talk to her in person when they go to Florida. But he doesn’t know how to suggest that idea. Nothing feels right when he tries to type it out. The last thing he wants is for Suzy to think he’s just some creep trying to flirt with her. There’s no way to casually ask, _So hey, where are you living now?_ without giving off that creepy vibe. 

At least, not in text form. 

Arin hesitates. Dan’s still in the shower. Still singing. Bowie, it sounds like. Fuck, Arin can’t tell. 

This feels a hell of a lot like sneaking around behind Dan’s back. Arin doesn’t like it. And he’s doing it on purpose. He’d waited for the chance, waited for Dan to be distracted and out of earshot. 

_Don’t puss out of this, Hanson. You need to get home somehow._

The phone rings once, twice, three times. Arin’s face is sweaty and the phone slips on his ear.

“Hello?”

Deep breath. “Hi, Suze.”

“Arin!” Either she recognizes him right away or she’d just taken another glance at his number. “It’s been so long.”

Jesus, it’s so fucking surreal to hear his ex-wife address him as a long-lost friend. “I guess it has been, yeah. Sorry for not replying to you yesterday, I was out at a party at Ross and Holly’s place.”

“Ross and Holly?” she asks blankly, and it hits Arin all over again - _she doesn’t know them._ She’d never met them. She lived three thousand miles away. But then she adds, “Oh, you mean Ross O’Donovan - the cartoonist, the one you do Gameoverse with!”

“Yeah, that’s the one. He‘s the creator of the whole thing. I just work with him.”

“I read an article about him the other day! When Gameoverse came out, I thought the name sounded familiar. Isn’t he the guy that you used to talk to on Newgrounds, way back when you and I were seeing each other? From Australia?”

“From way back,” Arin echoes. “That’s him.”

“That’s exciting, Arin! I’m glad you ended up doing something so creative with one of your friends. It sounds like you’re really busy over there.”

There’s a screech that sounds like a baby dinosaur being stepped on.

“Jesus,” Arin says, pulling the phone from his ear. “What the hell are you killing?”

She giggles. “They’re dismantling the set. I just finished a session.”

“A session?”

“A photo session. For Ralph Lauren.” She sounds faintly embarrassed, like she doesn’t want to boast.

“Oh!” It clicks. “You’re still doing the modelling thing?” Shit, Ralph Lauren is huge.

“For now, until - ” Another loud screech blasts through the phone, and Suzy laughs. “I’m gonna slip out back. Hold on, Arin.”

“Sure.”

There’s a pause, some rustling. In the silence, Arin suddenly realizes that the shower has stopped. So has Dan’s singing. He can’t hear Dan’s footsteps. Arin, deciding to follow in Suzy’s footsteps, quietly stands up from the table and slips over to the back door. 

It doesn’t take long for Suzy to come back on the line with a little sigh of relief. “That’s much better. What was I - oh yeah. So, this is my last shoot for a while. I’m taking a little break.”

“Breaks are good.” _Smooth, Arin._

Suzy laughs again. “Especially for a good reason,” she says, and for once Arin doesn’t recognize her tone. Her laugh is half jubilant and half terrified. “I can’t say too much yet, but - I’m in a really good place, and I’m so grateful.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Arin says, and means it. He’s curious, but he knows better than to push her. Besides, he’s seen another opportunity. She’s lead him right to it. “So where are you living these days?”

“Little town called Magnolia. Actually not too far from - ”

“My parents’ winter place,” Arin blurts, blindsided. Was this another sign? That’s the next town over. Barely a twenty-minute drive. “No fucking way.”

“Small world, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he says, and then he just plows right into it. “I’m actually heading there this weekend.”

“Oh? To see your parents?”

“No, they’re not there. I’m taking a vacation from work, too. Change of scenery, no smog, no traffic.”

“Do you think you’re going to be busy?”

Damn, she‘s handing this right to him. Arin keeps his cool. “Not the entire time, no. I could probably - ”

“Go out for lunch and catch up?”

Arin’s thinking fast, trying to think of how to coordinate this. If they went out for lunch, they’d have to bring Dan, and while Arin’s not sneaking around - he’s _not_ \- he’s not sure if he wants Dan there when he meets her. Arin kind of has a lot of mental baggage associated with both of them, and it’s nod a good idea to put himself in a situation that could fuck him over so thoroughly. He’s just not sure if his thoughts will be etched across his face, leading Dan to some ugly conclusions.

“Maybe breakfast,” he suggests, and then remembers that Suzy is not a morning person. Well, shit. It would be easy to make up an errand in the morning, maybe to pick up some foodstuffs for the weekend. Leave Dan yawning in his PJs, alone, maybe drifting back off to sleep.

But she surprises him. “Breakfast would be great too!”

“What happened to ‘I don’t function before eleven’?” he teases.

Suzy gives a surprise laugh. “I can’t believe you still remember that. I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, well.” _You said it just a few months ago, where I come from._

“My schedule is a little more regular these days. I’ve been trying to be asleep before midnight.”

“So you could do breakfast at like, eight thirty or nine?”

“Sure!” She still sounds bright and happy. “This is so exciting, Arin. I’m glad you got in touch.”

“You are?”

“Of course.” Her voice lowers in pitch, dropping the camera-cuteness, becoming more like the Suzy he knows. “I’m glad we can still be friends after so many years. You were always a wonderful person, and you taught me so much. I’ll never forget it.”

That gets him a little shaky, only because the other Suzy had said almost the same thing before she left. He swallows and pushes a hand through his hair. 

“I don’t mean to be sappy,” Suzy apologizes before Arin can speak. “My emotions are just kind of all over the place right now.”

Arin’s familiar with that time of the month. “Don‘t worry about it. Emotions don’t scare me.”

“Nothing scares you, Arin, you’re fearless.”

Arin thinks about Dan for a fleeting second and frowns. “Yeah? Where’d you get that from?”

“Um. Well, I’m, um, I’m sure I have better examples, but I was actually just thinking about that time you were playing the screaming penis game outside the mall - ”

Arin laughs hard. That’s embarrassing, but also, hey, he was like sixteen. “I remember that day. Didn’t we eat a bunch of cookie dough ice cream and make ourselves sick?”

“All I remember is that you bought me that little crystal bracelet from the hippie store. I still have it, buried somewhere.”

So did the other Suzy. He’d found it in their - in _his_ closet two days after he’d driven her to the airport for the final goodbye. The stones felt cold in his hand as he’d cried. Now, though, it just makes him smile to know that one little gift could mean so much to someone fifteen years later, whether they’d stayed in contact or not.

Suzy interrupts Arin’s thoughts. “Listen, Arin, I have to go. My ride is here. Text me later in the week so we can figure everything out, okay?”

“Alright.” He’s waiting for the excitement, the anticipation, some magical clue that he was finally on the right track. Nothing happens. “Talk to you soon. Bye, Suze.”

When Arin gets back inside, he sees Dan at the counter, eating an apple as delicately as anyone could ever eat an apple. He’s bent forward, looking pensive, leaning on one elbow as his giant thumb scrolls around on his phone. Arin wants to make him smile, so he comes up behind him and says, “Hey, Dan. What do you get when you cross the Atlantic with the Titanic?”

Dan blinks. “What?”

“About halfway.”

That gets a groan. “Oh, jeeze, Arin, that was bad. That was a total dad joke.”

“Is it so wrong to make dad jokes when you’re not a dad?” Arin bends over Dan’s back and gets right up close to his ear. “Is it…a _faux pa_?”

“Oh, my God, Arin.” But he’s smiling, ducking his head so Arin won’t see it. “That was one of the lamest things I’ve ever heard.”

“Thank you. I try.” 

Dan stands up straight and makes a face at him. “So who were you talking to out there?”

Arin’s lie comes way too smoothly. Maybe he’s had too much practice. “Oh, nobody. I was just checking out some shit on Etsy.”

Dan’s face takes on an odd look. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I was just bored.”

Dan carefully puts his apple core in the garbage. He rinses his hands, dries them on a towel. His movements are very slow and deliberate. “I thought I heard you talking.”

Arin feels something in his belly squirm. He crosses over to the fridge and pretends to be picking out something to drink. “Oh yeah,” he says like it’s an afterthought. “Yeah, so I called Ross, but he wasn’t there, so I left a message.”

“Arin.”

“What?” He almost flinches when Dan looks him in the eye.

“Are you sure you called Ross?”

“Uh. Yes?” And when Dan just stares at him, his dark eyes inscrutable, it makes Arin’s stomach go crazy. “What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Arin, the window is open. I could hear you.”

Oh. Oh, fuck. His stomach drops. “Oh.”

“That’s all you have to say? Just, ‘oh’?” 

“I, um…” Brilliant. Truly brilliant. Arin doesn’t know what to do.

“So who were you talking to?” Dan tilts his head. “I’m just asking, because it kind of sounds like you were making plans for us to visit somebody on our trip.”

There’s no way out of this. “Um, I called my old friend. Suzy. Suzy Berhow.”

“Your ex-girlfriend.”

“Yeah.”

“And you were talking to her because…” Dan’s picking at a fingernail. That’s not like him. And now he’s avoiding looking at Arin.

“Do I need a reason to talk to her?”

That was a bad thing to say. “No,” Dan says coolly, “but maybe you could, um. Explain to me why you felt the need to lie?” 

“I’m sorry,” Arin begins, because that seems to be a good place to start. “I didn’t want you to get mad.”

“Well, that kinda makes me think there’s something to be mad about.”

Arin rubs his face. “Fuck, are we really doing this?” 

Dan goes from cool to icy. “Yeah, I think we are.”

“Well, jesus, Dan, so I can’t talk to Suzy because you don’t like it?” 

Dan’s hands are shaking a little. Jesus, Arin doesn’t think he’s ever seen Dan get angry. “I don’t care who the fuck you talk to, Arin! Since when have I ever cared about that? I’m mad because you lied to me. You looked me in the face and lied to me, and I want to know why!”

“It’s not important. I was going to tell you.”

“Yeah? When?” Dan crosses his arms. 

Arin can’t answer, again.

“You lied to me the other day too, didn’t you?”

“What?”

“You weren’t trying to call your brother. Those Florida numbers in your phone - you were talking to Suzy. Obviously you didn’t want me to find out so you didn’t save her in your contacts. That’s why you jumped on me for looking at your phone. I thought you sounded weird.” When Arin doesn’t say anything in his own defence, Dan shoves a hand into his own hair. “I can’t believe this. What the hell, Arin?”

Arin’s trying very hard to hold it together. “Listen, Dan - it’s not a big deal - it’s not, fuck stop looking at me like that.”

Dan barks out a very un-Dan-like laugh. “Not a big deal?”

“Dan, I can explain.” But he can’t, and he knows it, and he’s pretty sure Dan knows it too. “Just calm down and hear me out.”

Dan’s eyebrow arches. “I am calm, Arin. You’re the one who’s freaking the fuck out, and it’s not exactly helping your case.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Arin splutters. “I don’t have to explain every little thing I do, alright? Why were you eavesdropping anyway?”

“Eavesdropping? As if it’s my fault you were too caught up with your ex that you didn’t notice you were standing under an open window!”

“We talked for like five minutes. And when I got in you just fuckin’ jumped down my throat.”

“What?” It’s Dan’s turn to splutter incredulously. “I was just wondering who you were making plans with!”

“Why? Did someone invite you?”

Dan looks like he’s been slapped, and Arin immediately backtracks.

“Okay,” Arin says hurriedly. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for, but - ”

“I don’t even want to listen to you anymore, Arin. I’m just. I’m done. I’m going somewhere to think about this.” His colour is high and his face is set. 

“Okay, jesus, Dan, you don’t have to go anywhere. Aren’t you being a little dramatic?”

“Excuse me?” 

Ah, shit, Arin’s never heard that tone from Dan before. “Well, I mean, what do you want me to do? I apologized.”

“I don’t know, okay? That’s why I need to go think. I don’t know what the fuck is going on or how to deal with you.”

“Do you think I’m trying to cheat on you or something?” 

Arin keeps digging himself deeper. 

Dan‘s eyes narrow. “I don’t know.”

“What the fuck, how do you not know? Dan, I would never - ”

“Maybe because you’ve been acting weird all week,” Dan snaps back. “And now you’re hiding shit from me, sneaking around when my back’s turned, talking to your ex that you haven’t spoken to in years and making plans to meet her, alone, on _our_ vacation. And you have the nerve to act like I’m the problem for being fucking angry at you about it?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, it‘s just breakfast! Get off my back!”

“Who _are_ you?” Dan shouts back, his voice cracking. “Did you get fucking, abducted by aliens or something?”

He’s never heard Dan yell before. And he’s never felt this horrible before. All he can do is stand there and take it, because he deserves it, all of it.

But Dan already looks like he’s regretting his outburst. He takes a deep breath. “I’m just…Arin, I’m really trying to be understanding. I know you act differently when you’re stressed, but this is getting out of hand.”

“How am I acting differently?” Arin’s lips feel fat and numb.

“The fact that you don’t know says a lot.”

“What kind of bullshit cryptic answer is that?” His words are louder than he intended, bouncing and echoing around the big kitchen. “Fuck, Dan, give me something to work with, here!”

Dan stares at him. “You know what? I can’t handle this. I’m going to bed.”

“Dan - ”

“I said I’m going to bed.”

Arin deflates. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, that’s fine. I’ll, um, be up a while longer. I’ll come up around midnight.”

“Thanks, but no. You can sleep on the couch tonight.”

Arin looks at him, startled. “But - ”

Twin spots of colour flare bright on Dan‘s cheekbones. “Either you take the couch or I’m - I’m going to a hotel or something. I need to be alone.”

Arin feels like he’s been kicked in the stomach. That Dan would consider walking out on him - that Arin had managed to ruin a marriage in literally less than a week - makes him want to scream. “Danny, no, please don’t leave.” He can feel the backs of his eyes getting hot, the tears right there, waiting to come out. There aren’t words to describe how fucking horrible he feels, how scared he is. This isn’t even his life, but he can’t do this to Dan. “I’ll sleep on the couch. Just don’t leave. Please.”

Angry as Dan is, Arin’s obvious distress still softens him. Dan hunches in on himself, looking confused and upset. He tugs at his hair and looks at the floor, and Arin hears him do the quick little intake of air, like he’s almost crying but holding it back.

“Dan,” Arin says quietly. “Dan, hey, I’m - ”

“I said I can’t right now,” Dan croaks. “I - I’m gonna go.”

He whirls around and race-walks past Arin to the stairs.

And Arin feels the crushing sense of helplessness fully descend on him.

He wonders if this is how his Dan felt when Arin had walked away, and that’s what finally does it - that breaks the floodgates. And Arin starts to cry.

Maybe his cosmic punishment theory hadn’t been too far off the mark after all.


	9. Face the Music

Ross doesn’t look very happy to see Arin on his doorstep. 

“Arin, what the fuck? It’s like, past midnight. What are you doing here?” Then he catches the look on Arin’s face. “Whoa, you look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Arin says, not quite managing to sound as bitter and sarcastic as he feels. “Like I didn’t know that already. Can I come in?”

“Arin, you know I love you, but this is a weird time to come visit.” But Ross yields with a sigh and steps back, motioning Arin inside with a jerk of his head. 

“I didn’t come here to hang out.” Arin takes off his shoes and jacket and slumps onto the couch like a big wet bag of cement. “Do you mind if I sleep here?” 

“On the couch? I have a guest bedroom, but - why do you need to sleep here?” His eyes widen when they read the misery on Arin’s face. “Did Dan kick you out?”

“Not exactly. I just left.”

Ross sighs again, more loudly. “Again? Does he know where you are this time, at least?”

“I left a note.”

“A note?” Ross shakes his head. “Great, so what time should I expect him to show up?”

“I don’t think he will.” Arin folds his arms behind his head and stares resolutely at the wall.

“Arin, what the hell did you do now?”

Arin just shrugs. “Fucked everything up. Like I always do. Do you have a drink?”

“A drink?”

“Yeah. Something strong. You have vodka, don’t you?” 

“Since when do you drink alcohol?”

“Haven’t in a while now. Not since I got here.”

“Good,” Ross says, both eyebrows raised, “because Dan would definitely think something’s wrong with you. Uh, so quick lesson, this Arin doesn’t drink. He’s pretty firm on that, actually. It’s like, a moral and personal choice? He doesn’t like being out of control or not being able to think clearly about shit.”

“I know.”

“How would you know?”

“Because that’s how I used to feel, too. Before she left. And then I realized that it feels pretty good not to be in control or have to think about shit.”

Ross stares at him, then shakes his head. He heads into the kitchen and comes out with a bottle of water. He tosses it to Arin. “Drink that. No way I’m giving you fuckin’ alcohol when you look like you’re ready to fall over already.”

The cold is nice on his throat, makes Arin feel a little less like a walking corpse. He almost feels drunk already, the bad kind of drunk, when the euphoria wore off and the room started to spin. 

“Now,” Ross says, sitting on the chair across from him. “Tell me what the fuck happened and why you’re at my place at midnight asking for booze.”

“Dan and I had a fight.”

“A fight?”

“A spat. A lovers’ quarrel. I don’t fuckin’ know. There was some yelling involved.” 

“Dan can yell? Did you kill a puppy in front of him, or what?”

Arin laughs humourlessly and picks at the label of the water bottle. “He caught me talking to Suzy.”

Ross frowns. “That’s all? Dan wouldn’t - ”

“I called her while he was in the shower. Then I went outside so he wouldn’t hear me when he got out, but I was standing under the kitchen window. Which was open.”

“What, were you confessing your undying love for her or something?”

“No. Nothing like that. We barely talked. But we made plans to go out for breakfast together when I got to Florida and - ”

“All three of you?”

“Jesus Christ, Ross, let me finish. No. I didn’t mention Dan. I didn’t tell her I was married. It didn’t come up. That’s not the problem, though.”

Ross looks worried. “That kind of sounds like a problem. I mean, if you were intending to visit her alone, that’s kind of weird, isn’t it?”

Arin ignores that. “When I got in, Dan asked me who I was talking to, and I lied and said I was just calling you."

“But he didn’t buy it.”

“Well, no, because he was standing right there in the kitchen, and apparently he heard every word I said to her.”

Ross winces. “Oh, shit. And then - ”

“And then he got mad that I lied to him, and I, uh. I might have yelled at him, and then he yelled at me, so…I yelled some more.”

“Brilliant, Arin,” Ross says dryly. “Good one.”

As frustrating as it is, Arin kind of appreciates Ross’s willingness to call him out on his bullshit. At least it keeps Arin on his toes. “Yeah, I know, I’m fucking stupid, what else is new? Who even cares? I fucked things up worse in the real world.”

“This is the real fucking world, Arin. Didn’t I tell you that already?”

“It’s not my world. This isn’t my life.” 

“I don’t care. You’re here, and that’s all that matters. You can’t just shit all over this world like it means nothing. What you do is going to leave a mark.”

“Maybe,” Arin concedes, reluctantly.

“What do you mean maybe? Dan loves you, dude. Even if you don’t love him back, you can’t run away from this. You can’t hurt him because he’s not your Dan. Did you even try to apologize or did you just run away?”

Arin ignores the question entirely. “Who said I don’t love him too?”

“Well.” Ross stares him down. “Do you?”

Arin looks at Ross and suddenly he sees Suzy instead - Suzy as a spectre from the past, with blonde-streaked black hair and angled bangs. _It’s okay, Arin, just be honest with me. Be honest with yourself. I won’t be mad._

“Arin?”

A wave of sickness comes over him fast. Arin breathes, reaches for his water. It feels good going down but churns angrily in his stomach. “I don’t feel so good,” Arin mutters. 

Ross’s eyes widen. “Shit,” he says. “Are you gonna - ”

“Nope.” Arin wills it to himself. “I’m good. I’m good.” Another breath, in through his nose, out through his mouth. Big, deep breaths. This couch is way too nice to puke on. 

Ross rubs his chin. “Hey, if I went too far, just - ”

“Let’s drop it,” Arin says quietly. “Okay? Can we maybe talk about how I’m supposed to get home, instead?”

Ross looks like he wants to say a hell of a lot more, but he bites his tongue. “Okay, alright. So the Suzy thing, is that still happening?”

“I don’t know. I guess so. I mean, I already made the plans.”

“You could cancel.”

“You think I should?”

“Arin, I already told you, I think you’re way off base with this ex-girlfriend shit.”

“Wife,” Arin says quietly. “She was my wife, Ross.”

“Was,” Ross stresses, looking at Arin very closely. “Maybe there’s a reason things ended in both universes. Maybe it’s just not meant to be.”

“You don’t understand. We were happy. So fucking happy.” Arin crushes the water bottle between his hands. “For so many years. She taught me - I can’t even tell you how much she taught me. I know she showed me how to love myself.” Arin remembers himself at sixteen, seventeen, the awkward long-haired anime geek, huddled in big black sweatshirts on some days, wearing all pink and eyeliner the next. Soft-bodied, wide-hipped, weak-chinned, trying to channel his passion into his art and comedy. Suzy looked at him and saw something that Arin didn’t. She believed in him so hard that Arin started to believe, too. 

And that had been the key - that turned into his stunning success on Newgrounds, and while Arin was surprised, he didn’t think Suzy had ever been. She had seen it all along.

“I do understand, Arin,” Ross tilts his head. “She was in your life for a reason. I definitely believe that.”

“Yeah. And now she’s gone, and I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I mean…” Ross searches for words. “Just because you broke up doesn’t make the time you spent together worth less. And maybe what she taught you, or what you taught her, is still just as meaningful, regardless of when the relationship itself ended.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s any easier.” 

“I’m not arguing with you there. Fuck, it must be hard as hell. But you still learned, and you’ll heal.”

“Will I, though? Look at me, Ross. When she left, everything fell apart.”

“Everything?”

“Well. Just me. But I have a fucking company, I have employees, and it’s not fair to them that I - ”

“So you obviously still care. You didn’t fall apart. You’re just going through shit.”

“I walked away. I gave up and walked away. I - it‘s not like me. I hate running away from my problems, but - ”

“Uh-huh,” Ross stares at him. “Better start walking back, then.”

“To my company, or to Suzy?”

Ross‘s eyes narrow. He can look tough when he wants to. “Don’t twist my words. You know what I meant.”

Arin can be a stubborn asshole. “So going back to try to fix my professional life is right, but going back to fix my relationship is stupid.”

“Big difference, Arin.”

“Is there, though?”

“Yes, you fuck.” Ross throws his hands in the air when Arin just looks at him. “Okay, was the break-up a big surprise?”

“Uh, not exactly.”

“Was it one-sided?”

“No…”

“So it wasn’t anyone’s fault? You didn't walk away, yeah? You probably did try, both of you, and - ”

Ross is being helpful, maybe a little too goddamned insightful. Arin groans. “Okay, fuck, enough with the lecture, I get it.”

“I don’t know if you do, but okay.” 

Arin swirls the remnants of his water in the bottle and forcibly changes the subject. “Hey, so maybe it has something to do with my career. Maybe the point of all of this is that I can’t let my personal shit get in the way of helping my friends to greatness. Or I’m doing something different here. Maybe it’s Gameoverse.”

“You think an angel sent you here to make you work on my cartoon in your own world.”

“Why not? Or maybe…well shit, you tell me. What else am I doing here that’s awesome? Is Starbomb still a thing?”

“Uh, I guess? It was pretty successful. You aren’t like, actively working on another album. Maybe its on hiatus? Brian’s doing the dad thing right now, and Dan’s about to tour next month - ”

Those two statements seemed contradictory. “Dan’s about to tour with who?”

“Uh. His backing band, I guess? Some roadies? You?”

“Me?”

“You’re his manager, and his husband, so - ”

“His what?”

Ross cocks his head. “You’re not his manager, in your world?”

“Of Ninja Sex Party?”

“No, for fuck’s sake. Of Dan.”

“Why does Dan need a manager? What does he do?” 

“He’s a singer,” Ross says slowly, like it’s obvious. “A solo act.”

“And that’s successful?”

Ross stares at him for a while. “Okay. So, this is important. You should probably Wiki Dan. I’m surprised you haven’t already.”

“Um,” Arin says. “I will, but that can wait. I’m trying to figure out how to go home. I don’t know how to be Dan’s manager. I don’t know how to be his husband. Fuck, I barely know how to be his friend.”

“So maybe the angel wants you to work on yourself. Spend some more time with your friends. Indulge in some hobbies. Make some cool art.”

“That’s pretty good advice, except I don’t know how many friends I have left.”

“Maybe you need to fix that, before it’s too late.”

“I know. I want to. I want to apologize so fucking bad. But I’m stuck here and I can’t.”

“You can’t,” Ross agrees, “but there’s someone else you could go apologize to right now. Someone who loves you. Maybe you should start there.”

Fuck, he’s right. He’d spent too long thinking of this world as a place that didn’t really exist. A place where his actions didn’t have consequences. He’d been so caught up in himself and his own problems that he hadn’t stopped to consider the impact he was having here.

Whatever quest he was supposed to be on, whatever he was supposed to be learning, it could not involve hurting Dan. Arin can’t do it. More importantly, he won’t allow it. If this is what the angel wants, then the angel can go fuck himself.

But maybe it isn’t. 

_It’s over. She’s gone, and it’s over, and you have to move the fuck on._

Arin, feeling dizzy, leans forward and puts his head in his hands. He’s not ready for that. He tries to think, but something’s in the way. He’d left Dan at home, alone and hurting. Left him again.

“Ross,” he says thickly. “Why do I keep doing this? Why do I keep walking away?”

“I don’t know, Arin.” Ross surprises him with a hug. Ross isn’t big on hugging, so it’s kind of nice. “But you better start walking back.”

Well, fuck.

“I - ” There would be time to think later. Right now, Dan needs him. “I, um, gotta go.”

“I know.” Ross lets him go. “Call me later, okay? Let me know how it goes.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Yeah, tomorrow.” Ross gets up and tosses Arin’s jacket at him. “Drive safe. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

**

It’s almost two AM when Arin gets home. The silence is suffocating, isolating. Arin tries to be as quiet as he can as he slinks through the darkness, not wanting to wake Dan. He probably should just sleep on the couch, like Dan had demanded in the first place. They could talk things out in the morning. Maybe Arin could make breakfast, start them both off in a good mood.

But when he peers up the stairs, he sees a bar of blinding light coming from beneath the bedroom door. 

Dan’s still awake.

Arin’s not ready. He probably should have rehearsed some good things to say. But he has no choice. He mounts the stairs like he’s walking the last mile, heart in his throat. Part of him wants to run and hide. Another part wants to burst through the door and throw himself at Dan’s feet dramatically, begging for forgiveness. But somehow, he makes himself approach slowly and knock respectfully.

Dan throws open the door before Arin’s hand even lowers back down to his side. Arin blinks in the sudden glare of light, stunned.

“Arin,” Dan croaks, and throws himself into Arin’s arms.

Arin didn’t anticipate this, but he grabs on and holds him tight. Dan’s wearing nothing but underwear and one of Arin’s shirts, buttoned up. It looks like a nightgown on him. Arin can feel his slender body shaking in his arms.

“Jesus, Dan.” He rubs Dan’s back. “Are you okay?”

“I heard your car pull away,” Dan answers, his voice muffled. His face is pressed into Arin’s shirt. “Fuck, Arin. I made you leave. I drove you away. I - I didn’t think you were coming back. I was scared…”

Arin almost says, _I just went for a drive to clear my head._ Then he stops himself. Lying isn’t a habit he wants to get used to. 

“I stopped in to see Ross,” he says quietly. “He talked some sense into me. And then I came back because I knew I needed to apologize.”

“You came back,” Dan repeats.

“I’ll always come back, Dan.” Arin fights not to choke up. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Dan finally pulls back, and Arin gets a good look at Dan’s face. His face is lined and haggard, his eyes puffy and red.

“Did you sleep at all?”

Dan shakes his head. “I was too worried about you. I called you but you left your phone downstairs. I heard it ringing.”

“I pretty much just grabbed my keys and left.”

“I didn’t mean to kick you out of your own bedroom.” Dan’s voice is small, remorseful. “That wasn’t fair. I was just…I don’t know. I’m not used to arguing with you.”

“Well, I mean. I kind of deserved it. And the couch isn’t that bad. It’s not like you kicked me out of the house. I just. I didn’t feel like sleeping. And I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You look exhausted.”

“I know. I am.”

“Maybe we should just sleep now. Talk about this in the morning.”

Arin hesitates. “Sure.”

Dan turns the lamp off. It’s not as dark as it had been downstairs. The curtains are open. Once Arin’s eyes adjust, he can see just fine. There’s a full moon outside. Dan’s face is a cold ethereal blue in its light, like a painting, or something out of this world, so far above Arin. 

Arin makes his way to his side of the bed. The silence seems fragile, and his steps are soft and uncertain. When he passes by the window, he sees his own reflection dimly visible in the glass. It still throws him not to see the bright bleached streak in his hair. He doesn’t feel like himself without it.

Dan leaves space between them when they climb into bed. Arin knows he’s not being cold, he’s just being reserved. Arin had scared him. And Dan’s less bold than Arin, always had been. Some instinct tells Arin to take the initiative, to close the distance and take Dan in his arms. 

“I don’t want to wait until the morning,” he tells Dan bluntly. 

He can feel Dan sigh with relief. “Me neither.”

“So can we talk now?”

“I’d like that, yeah.”

It‘s all on him now. He has Dan’s full attention. This is his mess, and it’s Arin’s responsibility to clean it up.

“Well. I’m. I’m sorry,” Arin begins softly, his nose touching the shell of Dan’s ear. “I’m really, really fucking sorry. I never meant to yell at you. Or lie to you. You have every right to be furious with me. For that, and for just…leaving. I hope that you know how much I love you. Even if I don’t do the best job of showing it.”

Dan turns his head and pulls away far enough to look at him. His trusting gaze cuts. Arin is still deceiving him, just by being here, pretending to be someone he’s not. And maybe it’s not his fault, but it still hurts. Ross had said that he was the same Arin, that it was okay for him to pretend. Then again, it’s not Ross who has to deal with the deception.

“I just don’t understand,” Dan says quietly. “I don’t get why you lied. I know you’re not cheating on me - I didn’t mean to throw that at you - but I just can’t figure out why you thought an innocent phone conversation with your ex was such a big deal.”

“It wasn’t. It’s not.“

“Have I ever done something to make you feel like I’m jealous of you talking to other people? Or are you so bored with me that you desperately needed something to do on our vacation together?” 

“Dan…” Arin swallows. His throat is dry. He puts a hand on Dan’s arm and squeezes lightly. “It’s not you, trust me. How the fuck could anyone get bored of you?” His hand is reaching out to touch Dan’s face, cupping his jaw and tilting his face up toward the light. 

Dan blinks at him, his gaze questioning, lonely, lovely. Arin’s heart cracks and spills open in his chest and all the air comes out of his lungs. For a second, he can’t speak.

 _Fuck, he’s beautiful._

“Then why?” Dan asks, barely moving his lips. “Why did you lie?”

“I guess…I just wanted to see her, and I didn’t know if it would be weird. It’s so out of the blue.”

“Do you still have feelings for her?”

Arin’s brain sort of jolts to a halt as it tries to process that. It’s like it’s searching for the answer but coming up with a 404 error. But he has to say something. Anything. 

“I think I have some mental baggage about how I could have done things better,” he ends up saying, truthfully.

Dan nods slowly. “I get that. She was your first, like, everything, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah. She was. And maybe…maybe I just don’t feel good about how I left things off. She’s a good person. I just think it would be nice to stay in touch with her. And maybe it would be good for me to ask her some questions about what happened with us. For my own sake.”

Dan exhales. “See, I understand that. This sounds like you. Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?”

“I don’t know. I just. I love you, okay? I’m sorry that I’m a fucking idiot, and a shitty friend, and a shitty fucking person, but - I really do love you.”

“Don’t,” Dan interrupts roughly. “You know I hate it when you put yourself down. We all make mistakes, Arin.”

“I can’t help it. It’s the truth. I don’t know why you’re still here.” _I don’t know why you love him if he’s just like me._ “You’re perfect, and smart, and funny, and talented, and - and you could have anybody you wanted, but you’re here. With me.”

“Where else would I be?” Dan reaches for his hand. Their fingers intertwine. Dan brings Arin’s hand to his mouth and brushes a kiss across his dry knuckles, across his wedding band.

Could it be this easy? “Does this mean you forgive me?” 

Dan clutches Arin’s hand more tightly. Arin feels a swooping dread in his belly when Dan doesn’t answer - but then Dan leans in and kisses him. He tastes like toothpaste and a little bit like the garlic bread they’d eaten earlier that day. Arin kisses back, so relieved he could have cried.

“Just don’t do it again,” Dan says when they part, kissing the tip of Arin’s nose. “Okay? We always said we’d never lie to each other.”

Arin tries to say, _I won’t, I promise_ , but he can’t. The words stick in his throat. And Dan’s lips are right there, and he’s kissing Arin again, and Arin’s kissing back, or maybe Arin‘s the one who started it this time. He doesn’t know - he can’t possibly know - how can he think straight, when this is happening?

He means to stop at some point - he means to say _maybe tomorrow_ or _let’s just go to sleep_. But he doesn’t. In the dark, it’s easy for him to be brave. Arin kisses him until he’s gasping for breath, and then Dan lifts his chin, baring his graceful pale neck for Arin, and that’s too much. Arin _wants_ , and he doesn’t have the impulse control not to take. He presses his lips to Dan’s neck, kissing a line from jaw to collarbone. 

“Oh,” he hears Dan gasp. His pulse is racing, beating steadily against Arin’s mouth. “Mmh, that feels so good.”

Somehow Arin ends up on top of him, entangled in Dan’s long limbs. Then they’re kissing again, more desperate than before. Arin doesn’t know how the fuck he ended up here, after the way he acted. He doesn’t know what to do with Dan’s hands running down his back, squeezing his ass. He doesn’t know how to stop himself from giving in again.

And Dan’s no help. “Fuck, Arin,” he moans. He’s hard; Arin can feel him pressing into his thigh. “Want you so much. It’s been too long.”

Arin sits up, gasping for air, and looks down at the man laid out before him. _How did we get here?_ he wonders, helplessly. Dan’s face is flushed, his eyes glazed. He looks at Arin like he’s the only thing in the world.

“What do you want?” Arin barely breathes each word.

“Anything.” Dan’s chest heaves, his eyes burning bright in the dark. “Just want you.”

 _Anything._ That was a heady thought. Arin clamps down on it fast before it travels too far. Hadn’t he learned a goddamned thing? His actions had consequences…

Dan’s warm body squirms beneath him. His voice is tinged with desperation. “Touch me, Arin, please.”

Arin finds it hard to refuse Dan. He moves his hands over Dan’s chest, following his instinct again, letting his body take the wheel as his brain floats away. It’s easier in the dark, easier when he’s just doing one thing at a time and not stopping to think about where he’s going. The buttons of Dan’s shirt pop open one by one, his bare chest heaving beneath. Arin can feel Dan’s heart beating, pulsing against Arin’s fingers, making him dizzy. A warm little buzz goes through him when he reaches the last button and pushes the fabric aside. And Dan’s helping him, getting his arms free, letting Arin tug the fabric out from under him and chuck it across the room. 

Arin touches the waistband of Dan’s boxer briefs next, considering - but he can’t - he’s not brave enough, not yet. Not for that. One thing at a time. Arin runs his hands up Dan’s chest instead, thumbs brushing Dan’s small pink nipples. Dan twitches, his mouth falling open, and Arin likes that reaction so much he does it again. This time, he gets a moan, and the heat in his stomach blazes up through his whole body. 

Arin doesn’t think. Can’t think. Can’t slow down, can’t stop this, but who could blame him? He hadn’t realized how lonely he’d been before, how much he needed somebody to love him like this. He bends down over Dan’s chest and lets his lips trace the same path as his thumbs. Dan’s stomach goes taut and his hips come off the bed when Arin takes one sensitive bud into his mouth and sucks.

“Stay still,” Arin whispers. He presses Dan’s hips back down against the bed. Dan moans again, even more loudly. _Oh_ , Arin thinks dizzily. 

“Oh, f-fuck,” Dan gasps as Arin keeps his hips pinned in place firmly and grazes his teeth over Dan’s chest. “Jesus, Arin.” He bucks against Arin’s grip like he’s testing the strength of the hold, but he’s no match for Arin’s combined weight and leverage. 

It’s impossible not to notice the damp patch soaking through the front of Dan’s underwear. And it’s impossible not to notice the faint scent of salt and musk. They take Arin’s mind back to that night, back to Dan stroking himself to the rhythm of his hot mouth on Arin’s dick.

“Arin, please,” Dan whispers. “Don’t tease me, I can’t take it.”

Arin’s fucking putty in Dan’s hands, even when he’s the one on top, in control. He lets go of one hip and wraps his hand around the outline of Dan’s straining erection, stroking him through the fabric. His arm is shaking - he knows he shouldn’t, he can’t afford to get wrapped up in this, he’s not supposed to be here, he’s not supposed to be doing this, but - how can he stop, when Dan’s fucking begging for it? How could anyone ever refuse Dan anything?

Arin remembers to breathe. Or, at least, he tries to. This is the first time he’s ever touched another guy’s dick. No D-club sesh could have prepared him for the way it feels in his hand, even through the layer of fabric. It’s _hot_ , thick and dense, heavy in his hand, and it pulses when Arin squeezes gently.

Dan whimpers, pushing into Arin’s touch, and yeah, okay, Arin’s done for. He grabs the waistband of Dan’s underwear and yanks it down. Dan’s cock springs out and bounces up against his stomach. A sliding beam of light from a passing car illuminates Dan briefly, and in that dazzling flash Arin sees the faint pink finger-shaped marks on his hip. Something wild and possessive takes over him, crowding out the fear and the doubt. And Dan’s cry rings out more sweetly than any note he’s ever sung when Arin bends low and wraps one hand around him, guiding the head of Dan’s cock into his mouth.

It’s penance. Payback. Something, something justified. Dan had blown him. It’s only right to return the favour. 

It’s not as foreign as Arin might have thought. The size of him is a little daunting, and Arin has to drop his jaw wide. He has to remember to keep his lips over his teeth, to breathe through his nose. But the sharp intimate taste, the bliss of giving pleasure, it’s the same - it’s sex, it’s _good_ , and Dan is loud and responsive, making it even better. He rewards every move with a gasp or moan or sigh, and Arin loves it.

“Oh, God, _Arin_ ,” Dan moans. He pushes his fingers through Arin’s hair. “You look so hot when you do this. So fuckin’ gorgeous.”

Arin groans right back as Dan finds and matches Arin’s rhythm, gently pulling his head forward and rolling his hips, helping Arin bob up and down. It takes some of the pressure off Arin, and he can just focus on the velvet slide of Dan’s dick between his lips, the taste of his pre-come on the back of his tongue, the tingle of Dan’s fingernails scratching lightly at his scalp. Arin keeps one hand on the base of Dan’s cock and the other braced beside Dan’s hip to keep himself comfortably propped up. 

He feels clumsy, unskilled. He’s sort of jacking the bottom half of Dan’s dick with his hand while working his tongue along the underside of the shaft, lapping at the head when he pulls back. But Dan seems to be loving every second of it. His deep moans start to rise in pitch and volume. The muscles in his slim thighs are tightening up, and the smooth rhythm of his hips begins to stutter.

“Fuck,” Dan grits out, letting go of Arin’s hair and grabbing onto his shoulders instead. “Here it comes - ”

Arin hears the warning and has about half a second to be kind of terrified. He’s probably going to choke or have it come out his nose, or something. He feels Dan’s dick swell, and pulls his mouth back so Dan’s come spills over his tongue instead of being shot right down the back of his throat. To his relief, this part isn’t that foreign either, and it doesn’t taste bad at all. It doesn’t taste _good_ , exactly, but - something about swallowing it down makes Arin feel - jesus, there aren’t even words for it. He feels hot all over, weirdly proud, and holy _shit_ he’s hard as a fucking rock right now. 

Arin whimpers, rutting against the bed.

Dan makes a short noise of protest as Arin keeps mouthing at his oversensitive cock. Arin lets him go and rolls to the side. His lips are numb and his head is swirling like he’s drunk. Feebly, he drags himself up to lay beside Dan.

And Dan rolls on top, kisses him with tongue, not giving a shit about the taste of his own jizz. “That was amazing, baby girl,” he says, his voice rough and fucked-out. 

“Mmm,” Arin manages. Dan’s got his one thigh slotted between Arin’s legs, purposely rubbing against him. He’s already half out of his mind with pleasure. 

“Yeah?” Dan looks at Arin with a little grin. “Your turn?”

Arin means to say no - they’re square, he’s paid his dues, he wanted to please Dan for the sake of making him happy, not in the hopes of getting his dick sucked too - but instead he finds himself saying, “Oh fuck, please.”

Arin shirt falls somewhere behind the bed. His pants get balled up and chucked into a corner. Something falls over with a tinkling crash. Dan makes a little shout of alarm and grabs onto Arin, but then he laughs. “Arin, fuck, I had a glass of water on the table - oh, fuck it, never mind, come here.”

It doesn’t last long. Dan sucks dick like a goddamn pro, and his free hand is adventurous. He nudges his way between Arin’s thighs, palms at Arin’s balls, and when Arin feels those long fingers stroke that sensitive spot right beside his ass, he nearly bites off his tongue. 

Arin almost forgets to warn Dan before he comes, but Dan reacts intuitively to Arin’s quiet gulp of air. Dan squeezes his thighs as Arin twitches and jerks through the intensity of his climax, and when he’s done, Dan wipes his mouth and snuggles up against Arin’s chest like he’s done this a hundred, a thousand times. Other-Arin is a lucky bastard. Hopefully, he knows it.

Arin strokes Dan’s hair, feeling rocked by the surge of protective instinct that comes over him. “Thank you,” he murmurs. 

It’s a relief to see Dan smile. “My pleasure.”

Arin could just go to sleep, enjoy the peace and stability, but after a few minutes of cuddling, something makes him ask, “Hey, Dan?”

“Mm?”

“Do you remember when you first thought about - being with me, dating, whatever?”

It’s a gamble, because Arin doesn’t remember himself. Dan laughs sleepily and says, “Of course I do. I spent fucking ages being terrified about it.”

“Yeah, it’s a pretty shitty concept, isn’t it?”

Dan laughs again. “I just didn’t have the balls to admit it to you, or to anyone, really. I wish I did. But you were my boss - you’re still my boss, really. And you’re pretty intimidating.”

Arin had heard that he _looked_ intimidating, or came off as intimidating at first given his size and relative loudness, but it’s surprising to hear it from Dan. “Really? Intimidating?”

“Well, yeah. You were just so confident. It was like, what can I possibly offer you, when you already know who you are and what you want? And what if things got weird, and then we’d mess up all our projects, and - well, you know how good I am at obsessing over every possible thing that can go wrong.”

“You are good at that, yeah. But you’ve gotten better at not doing it.”

“Aw, thanks, Arin. I’ve been trying. But yeah, there was also - I mean, the whole liking a guy thing, it hadn’t really…it took me a while. To come to terms with that.”

“You’d never thought about it before.”

“Never. Not until you. You were just, captivating, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about you.”

“Captivating,” Arin repeats, bemused. “I’m captivating?”

“Hell yeah, you are.”

“Huh.” That’s something to chew on. _Captivating._ It sounded more like a word Arin would associate with someone charismatic - like Dan.

They’re quiet for a while, a peaceful sort of quiet. Then Dan goes, “Why do you ask?”

“I dunno. Just…I’m thankful, I guess. Having you with me. How forgiving you are, and how - how much you love me, even when I’m at my worst. I can’t believe you chose me, out of - like, the thousands of people who would love to be with you.” 

The corners of Dan’s eyes crinkle up in a smile. He’s getting sleepy, Arin can tell, and when he speaks he’s slurring his vowels together. 

“I’m thankful, too. I can’t imagine living without you.”

They link hands beneath the covers.

Arin stares at the ceiling in the darkness as he listens to Dan’s breathing become slow and even. 

He searches for the big hole inside himself, the missing piece from Suzy’s absence. He searches for that scary part of himself, that void of self-loathing that made the escape of alcohol sound enticing. 

He can’t find either one. 

Torn from his home, his life, his everything, Arin feels - whole.

Dan murmurs something unintelligible, shifting against Arin’s chest. The blanket isn’t fully covering him. Arin adjusts it for him and Dan, jostled by the movement, mumbles again. It sounds a little like Arin’s name.

“Go to sleep,” Arin whispers to him, and promptly takes his own advice.


	10. Crossing Paths

Travelling with Dan is second nature. Sitting in LAX, in his comfiest harem pants and worn flip-flops next to a tousle-headed Dan - Arin’s been here half a hundred times. 

Dan’s gazing wistfully at the Starbucks. It’s five-thirty AM, and they’d had to wake up at two. He’d gotten three, maybe four hours of sleep. Arin, despite having gotten approximately forty-five minutes’ worth - he always found it hard to go to bed early - doesn’t resent him for it. 

Arin curls an arm around Dan’s shoulder and leans in to speak over the loud conversation of an inconsiderate Bluetooth-wearing businessman. “You know, we probably have time for you to finish a coffee.”

Dan makes a noise that Arin takes as a negative.

“No coffee?” Arin prompts. “I’ll go order for you.”

“I don’t wanna have to pee on the plane,” Dan mumbles. He lays his head back on Arin’s arm.

“Why not?”

“Wanna sleep instead. Gonna pass out as soon as we board.”

Dan’s ridiculously cute when he’s tired. Maybe that’s why Arin doesn’t feel like a complete pile of shit, even though he has that all-over fuzziness he gets when he’s totally exhausted.

“Takin’ the train to sleepy time junction,” Dan sings quietly into Arin’s hoodie. Arin smiles. 

“We should have brought you a travel pillow.”

“That’s what you’re for,” Dan says muzzily, and he _does_ look comfortable.

When the boarding call comes, the two of them totter over to the gate. Dan looks sleepy enough to be unsteady on his feet as they line up, and when the line starts to move, Arin actually has to nudge him awake. Dan jerks to attention long enough to take his ticket and follow Arin onto the plane, but that’s about it for him. His eyes open briefly during take-off, and he smiles when he sees Arin looking at him, and then he’s out like a light.

 _Perfect,_ Arin thinks, and scrambles to get out one of the mini notebooks he’s taken to carrying around with him. He flips through pages and pages of notes, bullet points, and doodles to get to what he’s looking for. 

He’d been slowly training himself to take up other-Arin’s mantle. Whenever Dan was busy or out of the room, Arin would watch endless videos on TV production, band and musician management, and even interviews with himself and Ross, or himself and Dan. All the while, whenever Dan wanted to sit down and veg out in front of the TV, Arin kept casually putting on Gameoverse. 

Arin could recognize the first two seasons - he’d written the screenplays in his own world, and they’re not much different, only fine-tuned - but the rest are mysterious and wonderful and so fucking inspiring. Arin wishes he could show the other Ross just one episode of season five. He can almost picture the way Ross’s eyes would light up with genuine delight, his passionate mind overflowing with all the new ideas. 

Come to think of it, that was exactly how Arin had been feeling lately, too. Rarely had he been so consistently inspired to just sit down and _write_. One of his notebooks is chock-full of ideas, character webs, brainstorm charts, and crude sketches and storyboards. 

That, at least, he could work on with Dan watching. Plotting future episodes of Gameoverse wasn’t conspicuous. Googling “what the fuck does a co-executive producer do” was another story.

The monotonous drone of the plane’s engine makes it difficult to focus. Arin’s itching to get back to writing screenplays, but first he makes himself read over his notes on his career in this world. He flips to the dog-eared section where his notes on Dan’s musical career start. There hadn’t really been enough time for Arin to watch and listen to everything, but what he had managed to hear was fucking _amazing._

Not that Arin was surprised. He’d always known Dan’s well of talent was deeper than anyone realized. 

It’s easy to review the details of the upcoming tour, a little harder to start memorizing the names of all the people he’s supposed to know. The backing band, the roadies, the tour bus driver. A few of the names ring a bell - he’d seen them on Dan’s Instagram. Then there’s security, transportation, hotel rooms, press, all of that mundane stuff that required endless hours on the phone and online. One of the band managers Arin had watched speak on the subject called it a thankless job. The star got all the attention, while the manager busted his ass trying to keep things running smoothly. 

But this is what Arin’s good at. This is where he excels. He’d learned long ago to temper his creativity with practicality, that he had to organize himself to control his spikes of energy. And he’s good with people too, he’s had to be, with so many employees depending on him. He knows a little bit about the music industry, and he definitely knows how to deal with venues and promoters. Being Dan’s manager shouldn’t be a huge leap - it would play to all Arin’s strengths, and he’d get the additional satisfaction of working for one of the best performers he’d ever known. Arin didn’t shy away from the spotlight, but he didn’t always seek it out, either. It would be fun to take the back seat for a while.

And whether or not he felt he was ready, Arin has to do this. He was done with running away. For Dan’s sake, he would step up and do his best to be the man Dan thought he was. For his own sake, he would not let himself repeat his past mistakes.

It helps that Other-Arin is organized. He also keeps lists and notes and endless contacts and a calendar all kept in a folder labeled _definitely not porn_ on his laptop. Arin kind of loves him for it. The laptop is in his carry-on, too, but Arin had forgotten to charge it before they left.

It doesn’t matter. It’s not a long flight. Certainly nowhere near the twelve-hour jaunt to Japan that Arin’s used to. By the time Arin’s finished studying, it’s already three hours into the not-quite-five-hour journey, and Dan wakes up with a snarled yawn, his eyes already noticeably less red.

“Morning, sunshine,” Arin says lightly, closing the notebook. 

Dan glances out of the window and blinks at the expanse of grey-brown water below the plane.

“Lake Pontchartrain,” Arin says. “We’re more than halfway there.”

“Oh, good.” Dan sits up straighter and rubs his eyes. 

There’s a rugged sort of sweetness to Dan’s face when he’s just waking up. Arin, studying him sidelong as Dan continues to gaze out the window, wonders how Dan manages to have such coarse, masculine features - his gently dimpled chin, strong brow and jaw, the scar over his eyebrow - and still evoke a sense of softness. 

Something sticks in Arin’s throat. A little pang of undefined emotion zooms through him, gone as quick as it had come.

“What?” Dan turns from the window and catches Arin’s stare. “Did I drool on my chin?”

“A little.” Arin says, and then laughs as Dan makes a face and wipes his chin. “Just kidding. You’re fine. I was just thinking, how…“ His poetic thoughts don’t translate well into prose. “How beautiful you are,” he finishes lamely instead.

“Arin!” Dan ducks his head, embarrassed and pleased. “You’re a sappy fucker.”

“Do you like it?”

“I kinda like it,” Dan allows. 

Arin’s happy that the dude in the seat next to them is absorbed in conversation with his friend across the aisle. He’s able to smack a wet kiss on Dan’s cheek without feeling like he’s being gross in public. Arin isn’t big on caring about what other people think, but he’s never been a fan of too much PDA. 

Dan scrunches up his face and wipes off Arin’s kiss, but he’s smiling. 

It’s getting almost too natural for Arin to be physically affectionate with him.

“Give that here,” Dan says, picking Arin’s notebook up. Arin has a moment of panic, but Dan opens it to the last page and folds the cover around the back. “You have a pen?”

“Pencil.” Arin hands it to him and watches curiously as Dan scribbles. “Hangman?”

“Hell yeah.” Dan neatly marks eleven dashes and waits expectantly.

“Q,” Arin says, just to be an asshole, and Dan snorts and draws a little circle for a head. “Z. J.”

“Be serious, you fuck.”

“I like living on the edge. Okay, fine, S.”

Arin’s able to guess _stegosaurus_ pretty quickly, and Dan hands the notebook back so Arin can mark thirteen dashes, with a space. Dan has a harder time with that, but eventually gets _Sailor Jupiter_ with a clue prompt from Arin.

They go back and forth, pausing to eat the lousy meal provided by the flight attendants, until Dan finally stumps Arin.

“Gimme a clue, Daniel.” It’s four words, and they’re not long, but maybe Arin’s brain is just tired and burnt out. 

“Jesus, Arin, this one’s so easy.” Dan marks the first letter of the last word with F.

A seven letter word starting with F. “Forests,” Arin says out loud, but that doesn’t work, because he’d guessed _S_ already. “Facial. Wait, shit, that’s six. Uh, funding, fumbled, frowned…okay, uh, N.”

Dan draws an arm on his little hanging man.

“Fuck. C.”

Dan draws another arm.

Arin keeps staring. “The fuck, man. Another clue?”

Dan marks a W as the beginning letter of the second word. “It’s a song,” he says, and he sounds a bit exasperated.

“S, W, M, F,” Arin says it out loud. “Fuck, I dunno.”

Dan keeps staring. “Seriously?” He puts a V as the third-last letter and waits.

“Y,” Arin guesses, because the two-letter word starting with M can only be _my_ or _me._ There is a Y, but Dan puts it as the last letter of the first word. “A. Okay, the first word is _stay_ , right?”

“Yes, Arin. And now…”

“Dude, I don’t know, tell me who sings it.”

There’s an expression in Dan’s eyes that Arin can’t quite interpret. “Me, Arin.”

“Oh.” Ah, shit. Shit shit fuck. He smiles winningly and racks his brain, trying to make this into a joke, but comes up blank.

“Our song,” Dan says, slowly. “The one I wrote for you?”

“I…I don’t know.” Arin feels sweat start to pool under his arms. He knows the albums, but not all the songs. _He wrote me a song?_ Fuck, Arin should definitely know this. Stay, something, me, something…

“You don’t know?” Dan repeats flatly.

Arin does his best attempt at a joking face, like he’s only pretending to act confused and finding it hard to maintain composure. Dan’s eyes narrow, but then he laughs. It sounds forced.

“Funny, Arin.” Dan fills in the blanks. Arin watches the words form.

_Stay With Me Forever._

Arin feels pulled in about six different directions at once. He’s not sure what his face is doing. Suddenly, tears are close to the surface. 

He can hear Dan’s voice, clear as day - his Dan, in his universe. He can feel Dan’s head laying gently on his shoulder, the mixture of mirth and genuine warmth in his voice when he’d said those exact words to Arin…

Fuck, what he wouldn’t give to see his Dan again. He had so much to apologize for. Dan had given him everything - had saved his career - had been the best friend he could ask for - had loved him, looked up to him, been there for him when life got tough. 

_Stay with me forever, Arin._

“Are you feeling okay? Arin?”

“Just…feeling a bit nauseated.” More lies, fuck. But what else was he gonna say? “I’m gonna…go to the bathroom, one sec.”

All the exasperation in Dan’s face turns to concern. “Oh - oh, shit, Arin, I didn’t mean to sound mad at you…”

“It’s okay. I’ll be alright.” 

Arin tries to look nauseated as he makes his way out of his seat and to the bathroom. All he does is stand in there, breathing deep, willing himself to stay calm. 

_What if I never get a chance to apologize?_

It’s a question that Arin isn’t ready to answer. 

When he comes back, his eyes red but dry, the look of guilt on Dan’s face almost crushes him all over again.

“I really didn’t mean to sound frustrated,” he says again, as soon as Arin’s seated. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Arin smiles wanly. Dan still looks worried, so Arin takes his hand to show him that he means it.

Dan squeezes Arin’s hand. “It’s weird for you to get sick on a plane,” he muses. “Do you think it was that gross omelette you just had?”

“Maybe. Yeah, that’s probably it. All rubbery and shit.”

Dan strokes Arin’s arm. “Fucking airline food, right? Try to get some sleep before we land. If you need something, let me know.”

Arin nods, and closes his eyes, but his mind doesn’t stop. Dan’s sweet voice in his head doesn’t stop.

_Stay with me forever, Arin._

His Dan had said it as a joke. Hadn’t he? Arin had always thought it was funny, and maybe kind of cute. But thinking of it being a joke now just fucking _hurts_ , like something’s squeezing his chest way too hard.

The truth is right there with him. Arin struggles to push it down, like he always had. It’s hard when there’s nothing to do, nowhere to go on the cramped plane.

Florida can’t get here fast enough.

**

It’s hard to think in an airport. There’s so much going on around them. Arin’s always hated it - he finds it hard to cope with the noise and commotion and stress - but now he’s glad for it. He holds Dan’s hand through security to the baggage claim, and things seem a little more normal, a little more like home. By the time they manage to get their Uber pickup, the plane ride seems like a distant memory.

It’s a speedy hour’s drive north on the turnpike to the town his parents called home in the winter. Not too far from where Arin grew up. The drive is pleasant and nostalgia, and the Uber driver doesn’t give a shit when Dan laughs and puts a hand on Arin’s thigh in the back seat.

It’s almost two PM when they finally arrive. To Arin’s relief, the spare key is hidden under the same rock as always. When they get inside, Arin’s hit with a wave of contentment. 

He knows this place. It smells like home, like childhood. 

Arin is of the opinion that Florida is, well, a shithole. His childhood here wasn’t the happiest, but his family was always there for him. Seeing things that belong to his parents - the same knickknacks, the same tacky magnets on the fridge, the rustic furniture his mom likes, his dad’s rubber boots in the closet - it’s nice. Familiar.

He wonders what his parents back home in his world are doing - if Arin’s disappearance is making them sick with worry. He doesn’t want to think about the possibility that other-Arin has taken his place. 

“Feeling any better?” Dan asks, nudging him gently. “You’re kinda quiet.”

Arin nods. “I’m just tired, I think. I’ll feel better after some food and a nap.”

Dan nods easily. They’re both well versed in post-flight exhaustion. “Good idea.”

Arin finds some unopened Ritz crackers in the kitchen, and there’s bottled water in the fridge. He tosses a fresh bottle to Dan, who’s walking around Arin’s parents’ place like it’s home to him, too. Arin can’t get over how weird it is. To him, Dan had never been here. It isn’t an old house. His parents had bought it just two and a half years ago, unwilling to completely leave the sunshine and beaches for rural North Carolina. Even Arin hadn’t been here much. As he had stated loudly and publicly, he hated Florida. 

He wonders why Other-Arin had chosen to come here for a weekend visit. Or had it been Dan’s choice? There was nothing in Florida that they couldn’t get in California. Surely it couldn’t be for the beaches - there were some decent ones, sure, and the water was nicer than the Pacific - but there was no way Dan was going to get in the ocean. Especially not in Florida.

“It’s the fucking sharkiest place in the world,” his Dan had objected, the one time they’d been in Miami for a show together. Arin had suggested renting jet skis on their day off. “It’s the capital of shark attacks. Unprovoked shark attacks. Jaws style.”

“Okay, Florida’s the worst for shark attacks, but it’s only like, fifth, in terms of shark attack _fatalities_ ,” had been Arin’s helpful response. 

“That’s not any better!”

And Dan and Arin had spent the blazing afternoon at a board game café while Brian and the others had all gone to the beach. 

“So what do you want to do all weekend?” Dan asks, flopping down on the big daybed. “You told me where you wanted to go, but I forget.”

Arin quickly takes advantage of this. He has an answer lined up and ready to go. “Dude. Harry Potter. Universal Orlando.”

“But there’s one of those in LA, isn’t there? The Wizarding World of Harry Potter, right?”

“This one’s better,” Arin assures him, truthfully. “It’s got the fucking Hogwarts Express train.”

Dan gives him an indulgent grin. “Is that cool?”

“It’s the Hogwarts Express, Dan, it’s fucking cool as shit.” 

“I don’t know much about Harry Potter. It seems fun.”

“We can get you a Ravenclaw scarf. Like I have my Hufflepuff one.”

“You think I’m a Ravenclaw?” Dan asks absently, stretching his arms over his head. His shirt rides up, exposing a pale strip of flat belly. Arin’s eyes get caught, and he’s too slow to catch the full implications of Dan’s question.

So he barrels ahead. “Yeah, dude, that’s what you got when we did the Pottermore thing. Remember?”

Dan’s brow furrows, and he gives Arin a blank look that finally clues him in. “Pottermore?”

 _Shit,_ Arin thinks to himself. This must be one of the little differences between their worlds. 

“Maybe I’m thinking of someone else,” Arin says after a too-long pause, feeling his face flush with the lie. “I could have sworn I made you do the Sorting Hat thing.”

“Nope,” Dan says easily, but something in his eyes is still confused. He can sense the awkwardness in Arin’s excuse, but obviously can’t figure out its cause. “That could be something cool to do on Game Grumps, though. I think the lovelies would be into that.”

Arin fights to keep from laughing. The corners of his mouth twitch. “Yeah, actually. That would be fun.”

Dan gives him another strange look, but only for an instant. Then his face relaxes again. “What’s Ravenclaw known for? I know Slytherin is bad and Gryffindor is what Harry’s in.”

“They’re smart,” Arin offers. “They’re like, the nerds, I guess. And they wear blue. Perfect for you.”

“Ah. Everyone knows there are four types of kids. Evil, heroic, nerdy, and - what’s yours, just nice?”

“Loyal and hardworking.”

Dan’s eyes crinkle up at the corners. “That’s you, for sure. What’s my animal?”

“Your animal?”

“Yeah, aren’t there like, animal symbols for each one?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah. Yours is an eagle.”

“An eagle,” Dan repeats incredulously. “A fuckin’ eagle.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Uh, shouldn’t it be a raven?”

Arin gets hit with a big wave of déjà vu. Dan had made the same observation in his Pottermore episode. 

“Seriously,” Dan goes on. “And if they’re the smart ones, aren’t ravens the smartest bird?”

“I think parrots would be the smartest bird.”

“Well, shit, a raven’s gotta be smarter than a fuckin’ eagle!”

His earnest tone makes Arin crack up laughing, which gets Dan going too. Arin loves how animated Dan’s face is when he’s laughing, the way he contorts his body around like a happy puppy. His shirt rides up even more, and Arin, in a moment of vulnerability, ends up on the daybed with him, on top of him.

Dan’s giggles abruptly cease as Arin straddles his hips. His eyes are still sparkling with mirth as they look up at Arin. “Oh,” he says. “Hi. Is that a wand in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

Arin snorts at that. “I’m at like, a quarter chub. There’s no way you can feel that.”

Dan reaches for Arin’s waist, fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt. “Only a quarter?”

“Um.” Warmth is blooming up Arin’s spine, little electrical sparks zinging where Dan’s fingers are touching him. “I, uh. It’s rapidly approaching a respectable third.”

Dan rears his upper body up and grabs Arin around the shoulders, using his body weight to pull Arin back down with him. Arin’s sure his weight must be crushing Dan, but Dan doesn’t complain. 

“How about now?” he murmurs, wriggling until their bodies are pressed perfectly together.

Arin props himself up on his elbows. Dan’s face is right there, and Arin can’t help but kiss him. 

Dan makes a noise against Arin’s lips and kisses him back. He hasn’t shaved in a few days, and he’s getting more furry than usual. The sandpapery, bristly friction when their beards rub together makes Arin freeze, momentarily dumbfounded by the foreign sensation.

Dan pulls back, frowning. “You okay, baby girl?” 

“I’m good,” Arin tries to say with a smile. 

“Just good?”

“Well, um.” Arin shifts his lower body, pressing his hardness into Dan’s thigh. “Maybe this is distracting me a bit.”

Dan’s pupils darken, but his tone is light when he says, “So, hey, wanna know my favourite thing about this cottage?”

“What?”

“Shower’s big enough for both of us.”

“Dude,” Arin says, and his dick perks up. He does love showering after a flight. A together shower after a flight was even better. “You mean right now?”

“Hell yeah I mean right now.”

Arin almost kills himself rolling out of the bed and trying to step out of his massive bulky harem pants at the same time. A laughing Dan helps him stand, helps him take off his shirt, slides the elastic band out of his hair. His laughter stops very abruptly when Arin, bare-ass naked and hard as a rock, looks at him through a curtain of hair. 

“You said right now,” Arin tells him, letting his voice come from the back of his throat, all low and growly. He’s half-joking, but fuck, Dan seems to like it. Dan sucks air through his teeth and pulls his T-shirt up and over his head. Arin watches him work at his belt and jeans, thinking how weird it is that he’s just allowed to watch this, allowed to touch. He still isn’t quite over the fact that there’s a version of Dan that wants him this much. He isn’t sure he’ll ever get over it, even if he’s stuck here forever. It seems too good to be true.

“You just gonna stand there?” Dan asks, one eyebrow arching. “You’re kinda standing in the way. Bathroom’s behind you.”

“I’m appreciating the art that lies before me,” Arin says in a mock posh British tone. “A most exquisite specimen, I declare.”

“Don’t call it a _specimen,_ ” Dan giggles, breaking his pose. “Fuck, dude, don’t make me lose my boner. Come on. It’s cold in here.”

Arin feels Dan’s eyes all over his backside when he turns and leads the way to the bathroom. He’s tempted to saunter, to tease, just for the fun of it, but another big part of him is still self-conscious of his size and the way his body rippled and moved like Dan’s lithe frame never would. Self-love was something he’d been working on all his life. And while part of him accepts and even likes his body, another part wonders quietly why someone as hot as Dan would ever want to look at someone like him.

“Fuck.” It’s Dan’s turn to growl. “Hurry up and get that sweet ass in the shower, Hanson.”

Arin doesn’t even know what to do with that. 

The shower is pretty fucking nice. Arin loves that it comes with a wide, roomy bench. And while their shower at home was big enough for both of them to cram inside, this one’s big enough to be comfortable doing so. They don’t have to awkwardly press against the wall to let the other scooch by; they can both stand and wash up in their own personal space. 

Arin stops admiring the shower itself when Dan bends down to turn on the faucet. His sharp intake of air is swallowed by the sound of the rushing water. 

How could Arin never have noticed just how fucking gorgeous Dan was? This is the same man he’s worked with for six years - the man who would strip to his boxers without a second thought, gyrate his hips in a tight spandex suit, take off his own shirt onstage to drape on Arin’s instead, to the screams of a thousand fans. How the fuck did Arin never notice, never look, never _want_ -

\- _but you did, you did and you never told, could never tell -_

The water hits them both - water turned on hotter than Arin likes, but that’s alright. “Trying to scald me to death, you fuck,” he grumbles, but he’s mostly joking. 

Dan straightens up, shoulders rolling back, his groan of pleasure echoing off the tiles. “I told you a hundred times, I’m not taking one of your crazy-ass ice showers with you.”

The view in front of him is mesmerizing. Arin can’t help himself. He reaches forward and unceremoniously grabs Dan’s ass with both hands. Dan’s groan turns into a yelp of surprise, and then he laughs.

“Arin, jesus,” he giggles, even as he leans back into Arin’s touch. 

“What? It was right in front of me.”

“Can’t blame you. I have a pretty sweet ass.”

Dan’s doing his cocky little Danny Sexbang bit, but fuck, he’s not wrong. Dan doesn’t have a lot of ass to speak of, but it’s nowhere near flat. It fits nicely in Arin’s hands, the only part of his angular body that could be called soft.

 _“Anything,”_ Dan had whispered, that night when Arin had apologized, had decided to stop running away. And that’s a dangerous thought, especially with Dan, wet and glistening, letting Arin touch. _Anything,_ his voice echoes in Arin’s head, and the visual of his own dick inches away from Dan’s ass makes his head spin. It’s too much. Too much to handle. Arin - Arin _can’t_.

Luckily, Dan turns around and takes matters into his own hands. Literally. His eyes are on fire as he steps closer, aligning himself so that he can take both of their cocks in his big hand at once.

Arin whimpers, rolling his hips forward. 

“Yeah?” Dan grins at him. 

“Fuck yeah.” Arin adds his own hand, the two of them enveloping each other and keeping the friction tight and steady. Water is flowing into Arin’s eyes, and it’s still too hot for him to enjoy, but the steam makes his head feel thick and foggy. He can’t think - he can only feel. And Dan makes him feel fucking _incredible._

It starts slow and steady. Arin matches Dan’s rhythm as best as he can. It’s less intense this time around. It’s not soft and frantic like last time, with Arin too afraid to even raise his voice lest he shatter the spell that somehow allowed him to have Dan all to himself. This time, it doesn’t feel like a dream. It’s just _Dan_ , the same old goofy Dan, laughing when his dick keeps slipping up out of Arin’s hand as Arin tries to hold onto both even though they curve in opposite directions. 

“Fuck it.” Arin lets go. “This looks easier in porn.”

“I’m pretty sure everything about gay sex looks easier in porn.”

“Oh, well, fuck, of course. Like this one where this guy is like, elbow-deep in some dude and - ”

“Arin!”

“What? I’m just saying, he was like, practically _punching_ \- ”

“Arin, _please,_ ” Dan giggles.

Arin loves how easily they can go from serious to lighthearted and back, blending sex with humour. Dan’s still giggling when Arin wraps his hand around the base of Dan’s cock, but after a few long, teasing strokes, his eyes close and his mouth falls open. A moan rumbles through Dan’s chest. Encouraged, Arin strokes more firmly, and then a little faster, and then Dan is gasping his name. 

“You look so good,” Dan pants, his free hand petting at Arin’s chest. “Fuck, Arin, please, I need to come so bad.”

“Like this?” Arin keeps jacking him, adding a half-twist on the upstroke like he does on himself.

Dan shakes his head, water droplets flying. 

“Want me to stop?”

“Yes. No. I - ” Dan keens as Arin’s thumb slides over his slit. “I want - ”

“Show me.” Arin doesn’t care. Arin would let him jerk off all over his face, if that’s what Dan wanted.

Dan blinks once, then shoves at Arin’s hip. “Turn around,” he orders, and Arin just goes. He braces his hands on the cool tiled wall, and Dan presses up against his back. It takes Arin about half a second to process what’s happening, another second to deal with the initial jolt of fear, and then it hits him. Fuck, he’d let Dan do anything to him, too.

“Are you gonna fuck me?” Arin asks, half-excited, half-wary. 

“Arin, I was already like one minute away from coming, and thanks to you, it’s now about ten seconds.” Dan’s hands settle on Arin’s ass, pushing his cheeks apart. 

And - holy shit, that does something to Arin. His cock pulses, but there’s nothing he can do about it. He has to keep both hands on the wall to keep steady.

“You can, if you want to.” Jesus, what is he saying?

Dan’s hands are trembling. His dick, hot and hard, nudges into the cleft of Arin’s ass. 

“Dan.” Arin’s voice breaks. “Please, I - ”

“Can’t,” Dan gasps. “No lube in here - and no time - fuck, baby girl, look at you - ”

Dan wraps his arms around Arin’s chest, hips jerking in an erratic rhythm, fucking Arin’s cleft as he sinks his teeth into the juncture of Arin’s neck and shoulder. Arin almost inhales a lungful of water. The feeling of Dan’s dick _right there_ , so close, such a tease, is driving Arin out of his goddamn mind. He bends forward, nudges his feet apart, lets Dan use him however he wants.

“ _Arin_ ,” Dan moans into his neck, hips stuttering to a halt. And then there’s something slicker than water dripping down Arin’s crack. There’s barely any time for Arin to process how much he likes the thought of Dan’s come on him; the shower rinses him clean as Dan clings to him, twitching.

Arin starts to jerk himself off, figuring Dan’s down for the count, but Dan makes a weak noise of protest.

“Let me.”

“Let you what?” 

Dan tugs on Arin’s hip to turn him around again. “Let me make you come.”

“Oh,” Arin says weakly. “Oh, okay, yeah. Also cool.”

He doesn’t last long, either. Not with Dan staring down at Arin’s cock pushing through his fist, lower lip caught between his teeth. The heat is sinking into Arin’s muscles, into his bones, melting away all the built-up tension. Dan moves closer to kiss Arin’s neck, and the head of Arin’s dick just barely slides up against his hip on every upstroke. It takes maybe a minute tops for Arin to come with a drawn-out groan. He pants open-mouthed as Dan’s steady hand milks him through the aftershocks, watching his come drip down Dan’s stomach.

The shower bench comes in handy when they both collapse onto it, totally spent. 

“Fuck,” Arin says out loud.

“Fuck,” Dan agrees, wholeheartedly.

**

Scrubbed pink and clean, Arin takes the time to wipe the shower down tugging on a pair of loose shorts and a T-shirt. He comes out into the kitchenette to find Dan leaning on the counter with his eyebrows scrunched together. His face smoothes as soon as he hears Arin walk in, and Arin knows exactly what that means.

“You okay?” Arin asks softly. 

Arin knew Dan’s stomach troubled him more than he liked to admit. Dan didn’t like it when people worried about him. He powered through the pain as much as he could, and didn’t often let people see how bad it could get. 

Dan just shrugs instead of answering, which definitely means _no._ “I might lay down for a little bit,” he says instead. He gives Arin a smile. “Don’t worry about me.”

Typical Danny. “Can I get you anything? We haven’t eaten since the plane.”

Dan shrugs again. “Maybe some soup, if there is any?” 

Arin checks the cupboards, but doesn’t find much but canned beans and a box of popcorn. “Fuck. I’ll go out and get you some. Or I can get you whatever else you want. You up for some of my homemade ramen?”

“You don’t have to,” Dan says, but he looks excited at the prospect. “I’m fine with just heating something up.”

“I’m hungry too,” Arin points out. “And we would have had to have gotten a few things anyway.” He extends a hand to help Dan stand. “I’ll make up the bed for you.”

“Daybed’s comfy enough. And I can turn on the TV.”

“Whatever you want, babe.” The pet name slips out so naturally. 

Dan curls up on the daybed. And - fuck, Arin feels like shit to see him rubbing his stomach and wincing. He always hated to see Dan in pain. The worst part is knowing that he’s helpless to make it stop, to protect him from it.

Arin rubs Dan‘s shoulders until the taut muscles loosen a bit. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” Dan mumbles. “Can you maybe get me some San Pellegrino too?”

“Anything you want,” Arin promises. “Text me if you need anything else.”

“I will.” 

Arin gets a blanket to drape over Dan, and kisses his forehead before he goes. 

**

The Uber takes a little longer than expected. Traffic is worse, too. It’s approaching the height of snowbird arrival season, and the small downtown strip is packed. The cottage country’s population nearly doubled after October, with Northerners and Canadians eager to experience the tropical temperatures and sunshine.

Waiting on the front stoop, Arin thinks of Dan curled up and bravely enduring his pain, and curses himself for not renting a car.

But the driver knows shortcuts, and he’s a good navigator. They still make it in under twenty minutes, and the store doesn’t seem to have been hit with the influx of people yet. Arin grabs a cart and the hasty list he’d made in the Uber.

Arin’s looking up, reading the aisle markers carefully as he tries to find all the ingredients he needs. When he turns a corner and doesn’t notice how close he is to another shopper. His cart collides gently with someone’s shopping basket.

“Oh, sorry,” Arin says automatically, glancing down with a smile, not really looking at the person. He backs his cart up to the side of the aisle and gives them plenty of room.

“Arin?” a very familiar voice asks.

Arin freezes, dumbstruck.

He turns, eyes wide, and Suzy’s standing there, looking equally surprised. 

“Suzy,” Arin manages, and holy shit, it’s really her. The shorter, lighter hair and different glasses don’t even register. 

“What are you doing here?” She’s shocked too.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Okay, dumb question. She lives close by. She’d told him so.

Suzy lights up. “Oh, that’s right, you’re visiting! I nearly forgot.”

Arin winces at the memory of the conversation that led to his fight with Dan. “Yeah, um. Sorry for cancelling breakfast. It’s just - our plans changed, and we - you know.”

She waves it off. “Don’t be sorry! I’m busy these days too. You said _we_? So you’re here with your - boyfriend?” She spots his ring, and her eyes go wide. “Husband?”

“We got married two years ago.”

“Oh, Arin, congratulations!” 

Arin almost laughs as Suzy takes his hand, exclaiming over his ring. This whole situation is ludicrous. He’s in another dimension, with his ex-wife-turned-estranged friend, and she’s congratulating him on his marriage to his best friend and coworker. “Thanks,” he says, surprised to find himself blushing. “He’s, um, pretty great.”

“He’s _gorgeous_ , Arin,” she says warmly. “And he’s so funny. You’re a lucky guy.”

Arin wonders how she would have ever met Dan, in this universe. And then he also remembers that Game Grumps still exists - NSP still exists - Dan is a public figure, and anyone even vaguely following Arin’s life would know, at least vaguely, what Dan looked like. And presumably, it was common knowledge that they were more than friends.

“So you’re…doing some grocery shopping?” Arin asks lamely.

“Not really a full shopping. Just picking up a few things on my way home.” She makes a face. “The traffic is terrible, but I really needed this stuff.”

“Cheetos and potato salad?” Arin asks, looking at her basket. 

“Oh,” she says, blushing faintly. “Yeah. Weird cravings.”

“You hate potato salad.”

Her familiar smile comes out as easily as ever. “Since when did you have such a good memory? You’re right, I do hate it. But, um, I think someone else does.”

That makes absolutely no sense to Arin for a good long time. And then he notices that she’s holding her belly - a belly that has a barely perceptible roundness to it. It’s not the little soft paunch she used to get when they ate a lot of fast food, but a harder sort of outward curve.

“You’re pregnant,” he blurts, and that’s probably rude as fuck but that doesn’t occur to him in the moment. Holy _shit._

She laughs again. “I am!”

Arin stares at her until he realizes that he should probably say the appropriate word. “Congratulations!” 

“Thanks!” Her eyes are sparkling, and Arin can see other changes now that he’s looking more closely at her. Her face is a little rounded - and she has dark circles beneath her eyes, like she hasn’t been sleeping, or maybe getting up too early with morning sickness. But she looks happy - terrified and happy. “I’m due at the end of March.”

“Do you know if it’s a boy or girl?” Arin doesn’t know what else to say. He’s grasping. 

She shakes her head. “I want it to be a surprise. I guess I just don’t care. We did the nursery in black and green, with forests and moon themes, so either way… ”

“It’s gonna be a goth baby.”

“A witch baby,” Suzy corrects. “There are boy witches, too.”

“Aren’t they wizards?”

“Only in Harry Potter.”

“What about warlocks?”

“Warlock can be a derogatory term,” Suzy explains, with all her old passion. “The word traditionally meant ‘oath-breaker’. It wasn’t a nice thing to call somebody. Plus, it’s very gender-specific. I like inclusive words.”

“Women can’t be warlocks? Sounds like a load of bullshit to me.”

A passing elderly customer gives them a strange look, and Suzy and Arin wait until she rounds the corner to laugh.

“Anyway, even if you couldn’t make it out to breakfast, I’m really glad that I ran into you,” Suzy says, in that sweet earnest voice he’d once loved so much. “We should really stay in touch from now on. I’ve missed seeing you since you moved out west.”

“It’s nice out there. You should visit.”

“Travelling is going to be pretty hard from now on.”

“You can bring your witch spawn. Dan loves kids.”

“I’d love to see your place out there. Do you really still have the butterfly I gave you before you left?”

“Of course I still have it. It’s fucking awesome.”

“I didn’t think so until you told me it was.”

Arin remembers her frustration. Suzy was a perfectionist when it came to her work, and struggled with brushing off the smallest mistakes. 

“You’re too hard on yourself,” he tells her, like he had a hundred times - years ago and another dimension away.

“I was,” Suzy agrees. “Especially when I was a lot younger. I’ve gotten better.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m a lot more confident than I used to be.” She tilts her head. “Mostly because of you.”

“Me?”

“You were the first person that really believed in me, Arin. You’re the one who encouraged me when I wanted to be a model. You told me I was beautiful until I believed it, too. You also raised my standards really high, so after you I didn’t date any of the losers that tried to hang around. Or all the people that suddenly paid attention to me when my modelling career took off.”

“Yeah?” He wasn‘t ready for this. Suddeny, he feels almost like crying. There’s a suspicious gleam in her eyes, too.

“You’re a tough act to follow, Arin.” She puts a hand on his arm. “Thank you. For everything.”

The sincerity in her voice rocks him. Arin thinks of all the memories they’d shared together - every kind word she’d ever said to him - every sweet little thing she did for him. And it doesn’t hurt like it used to. 

Surprisingly, neither does thinking of her with someone else. 

She’s happy. Arin can see that she’s happy, and fuck, that’s literally all he cares about. Suzy is happy, and - and he is, too.

Arin hugs her clumsily, and she seems to get the words he can’t quite manage to say. Suzy had always been able to read him like a book. Their hug lasts a long time.

When they part, she checks her phone. “Hey, I’m sorry, but I have to go. I’m getting pretty hungry. And I’m sure you’re in a hurry to get back, too.”

He nods. “I’m supposed to be making Dan an early dinner. Or maybe a late lunch.”

“You don’t want to keep Dan waiting,” she teases. “Don’t be a stranger, Arin. Call me the next time you’re around.”

Arin stands in the middle of the aisle like an idiot for a few minutes after she leaves. A grocery store is a weird place to have a fucking epiphany, but here he is. 

Ross had been right all along. Suzy wasn’t the answer. God, Arin had known it too. But now he’s sure - really sure - one hundred fucking percent sure. If the angel had a reason for sending him here, it wasn’t to talk to Suzy to learn how to get her back in his world.

Of course, that raised the question of what the fuck he was _supposed_ to be doing here, but - well, that was a work in progress.

Arin has time to think about it as he waits for his Uber. Ross believed there was more than one way to find happiness. Dan believed that all paths led to the same place - that Arin would always find a way into his life, no matter what. What if they were both right? 

Suzy was a huge part of his life. She would continue to be a huge part of his life. What she had taught him, and what Arin had taught her, would continue to impact them forever. They’d been meant to meet - meant to love - meant for each other. But that didn’t mean they had to be in a relationship until they died. Maybe there was a universe where they would do exactly that. But friendship was a beautiful thing, too. They could have that forever. Arin would make sure of that.

And it’s okay that Arin still kind of loves her. She was good to him. Good _for_ him. And he’d been good for her. They’d made each other happy, taught each other valuable lessons.

For the first time, Arin feels like maybe his life back home really is worth living. He would survive - he would heal - he was capable of so much on his own. If he ever made it home, his life would go on.

He was done feeling sorry for himself. He was done with moping around, missing something that was never going to come back.

Because she wasn’t coming back. Arin knows that now. Suzy wasn’t coming back, and - and that was okay. Arin’s content with the life he has, and he’s content with who he is. When he gets back home, he’s going to get out his old ambitions, and some of his old art. 

And if something in him yearned for what other-Arin had, he could learn to get over that, too.


	11. Flowers in Jerusalem

“Arin,” Dan says faintly, staring down into the oily green depths off the dock. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes you can.” Arin tugs at his arm to distract him from the water. “Look, there’s our boat. It’s gonna be fun, Dan, I promise.”

“Sharks,” Dan mutters. “How did I let you talk me into getting this close to sharks?”

“Because you love me,” Arin answers promptly.

Dan makes a face. “You always use that against me.”

“And because you like experiencing new things.”

“I also greatly enjoy having all of my limbs attached to my body.”

“You’ll be fine. Just don’t fall off.” Arin regrets his timing when the crowd starts to move, each person making the step from the dock to the boat with a hand from the guide on board.

Dan turns a shade reminiscent of the waters below. Arin squeezes his hand. “You know you don’t have to do this if you really don’t want to.”

Dan’s jaw sets determinedly. “No. You’re right, I do like trying new things. Let’s do this.”

They’re at the marina on an island close to town. In Arin’s pocket are two tickets he’d purchased at the gate for ten bucks apiece. The boat tour wasn’t anything grand, but it had decent reviews online. Eight people were taken out on a small airboat through the lagoon, with a guide to identify local species. It was the only outdoorsy type of activity Arin wanted to do in this swampy humidity. Besides Orlando, there was really nowhere else to go for a day trip, and there wasn’t much in the way of entertainment in town. Arin still doesn’t know why the hell they chose to come here for a weekend getaway, but he’s trying to make the most of it.

It just so happened that the lagoon was also known to be a bull shark nursery. Arin had pitched the idea to Dan without mentioning that fact. But Dan had Googled himself into anxiety nonetheless.

Dan chooses the pair of seats at the stern. Arin worms an arm around his waist. Dan leans into him, his jaw set with determination but his eyes apprehensive. The only barrier between the passengers and the water below is a metal railing.

“It’s so open,” Dan says. “You think a shark could just jump right on here? Has that ever happened?”

“I bet we’re not even gonna see any sharks,” Arin reassures him. “We’re gonna see alligators and manatees.”

That piques Dan’s interest. “There are manatees in here?”

“You didn’t read the brochure?”

“I glanced at it. I didn’t get past the enormous shark on the cover.”

“That was probably a bad marketing choice,” Arin concedes. The boat is still boarding passengers, so Arin gets out the brochure and opens it to the middle. “See, look at the manatees.”

He takes it as a good sign when Dan, absorbed in the pictures, doesn’t react to the engine turning on. The next page shows an alligator with a duck in its mouth, and Dan snorts. “Speaking of bad marketing decisions. Could they pick a more terrifying picture? I’m not that scared of alligators myself. I mean, obviously I’d prefer not to get too close to a wild one. Bull sharks, on the other hand…”

“You’ll be fine,” Arin soothes, deciding not to tell Dan that the lagoon also had frequent hammerhead visitors, or that a great white had even been spotted in the brackish waters earlier in the year. They didn’t feature _that_ in the brochure, thank fuck.

“What if I fall off?” Dan asks, even as he holds onto the rail with one hand.

“You think I’d let you fall?” Arin tightens the arm around Dan’s waist. “Besides, I’ve been on one of these before. They’re fast, but not unsteady. The smaller airboats don’t even have railings and they’re still safe. Trust me, okay?”

“I trust you.”

Dan’s knuckles whiten when they pull away from the dock, but once they’re gliding smoothly along, he begins to relax. The breeze is refreshing, and there’s more than enough to distract Dan from the possibility of sharks. The tour guide points out native birds, including pelicans and spoonbills and an osprey diving for a fish barely twenty feet from the boat. They skim along the marshy bank in barely two feet of weedy water before turning out into the open lagoon. The bottom falls away beneath them.

“Still good?” Arin asks, nudging Dan. Dan opens his mouth to answer but a collective gasp of excitement drowns him out.

A pod of dolphins is swimming alongside the boat. Even Dan, despite his fears of falling off, actually leans away from Arin to look over the rail, watching the sleek grey bodies curving up out of the water, looking curiously at the humans from a safe distance. The colour comes back into Dan’s face and doesn’t fade. Not even when the guide pulls them up close to the opposite bank and gets them all to look at a bull shark down on the sandy bottom, chomping on a hapless sting ray. And when a manatee finally bumbles by, Dan’s face fills with wonder.

“Oh,” Dan exclaims very quietly into Arin’s ear. “Oh, Arin, I _love_ him. Holy shit, look at him, he’s fucking _huge._ ” He grabs at Arin’s arm in his excitement.

Arin watches as Dan tries valiantly to take pictures, battling with the glare of the sun off the water. His hair is a gorgeous mess, made fluffier by the Florida humidity. There’s a smear of sunscreen on the bridge of his nose. All eyes are on the gentle giant, except for Arin’s. Dan catches Arin’s gaze and grins, eyes sparkling, all tension gone.

Arin feels dizzy and he doesn’t think it has anything to do with the heat.

The boat purrs across the murky water as they branch off from the lagoon, heading up the mouth of the river. Their guide drones on about the mangrove forests, sea turtle conservation, and biodiversity. Dan seems to be listening intently, but Arin can’t focus. He just leans against his cushioned seat, enjoying the breeze in his hair and the shade of the canopy above. Right now the afternoon feels endless, eternal under the blue sky and tropical sun. Arin’s problems are incredibly insignificant and far away.

The tour is over before he knows it.

“That was more fun than I thought it would be,” Dan admits as they disembark. He hesitates for half a second while making the step back onto the dock, but he does it without being prompted. “It was like floating through a zoo.”

“You ever been that close to a dolphin?”

Dan shakes his head. “Not wild ones. When I was a kid we went to this aquarium place. And holy shit, I feel guilty about it now. That one dolphin was looking into my soul. But the manatee was my favourite. I didn’t know how fucking huge they were.”

“I told you it’d be cool.” Arin kisses Dan’s eyebrow, just above the scar. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“And I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

That puzzles Arin. “I was feeling fine before. What are you talking about?”

“I can tell when you’re hiding something, Arin.”

Arin’s stomach tightens at that, but the look on Dan’s face isn’t accusing.

The crowd of disembarking passengers begins to disperse. Dan and Arin follow them down the length of the dock. Dan’s purposely checking his speed, letting everyone else outpace them.

Arin bites his tongue, waiting for Dan to speak first. He hopes this isn’t about their fight - that felt so long ago now. Arin doesn’t ever want to think about what an asshole he’d been. Besides, he thought they’d talked it out. He’d told Dan about meeting Suzy in town, and it didn’t seem to bother him…

Arin’s patience finally gives out. He knows he probably shouldn‘t ask, but - “What do you mean, I’ve been hiding something? Have I been acting weird?”

Dan shrugs. “Kind of? I mean, I know our schedules are weird and you haven’t been sleeping well. But - you’re doing weird things. You seem anxious…or you did, at least. And you’ve been forgetting things all the time. More often than usual, I mean.”

Arin tries not to wince. He hadn’t realized it was so obvious. He’d thought Dan was more gullible. _You’re married,_ he has to remind himself. _He knows more than you think._

Dan reads his face quickly. “Fuck, don’t be sad. I’m not blaming you, baby girl. You have a lot on your plate. I just noticed how much better you look today. You look happy. Relaxed. More like yourself.”

“I do feel better,” Arin says truthfully. “It’s been fun spending so much time with you.” When even was the last time he’d spent time with Dan outside of work? Sometimes they grabbed lunch or dinner together, but that didn’t really count. Arin casts his mind back but can’t remember. Fuck, it’s been a year, at the very least.

Dan’s smile is warm. “Good. We need to remember to do this more often.”

“Come to Florida?”

“Not necessarily. We talk about work stuff so much, even on our down time. We need to take more time to get away from it all. More than once a year. Just the two of us.”

Arin can’t help but wonder if both Dans feel the same way. Back home, Dan’s always so busy. So many people compete for his attention. He has other friends, friends that share his interests. Girlfriends, here and there. Arin had invited Dan along to their last Japan trip - he’d invited Dan to Hawaii - he’d invited Dan to go up to San Francisco, just the two of them. Each time, Dan had turned him down, preferring to spend his breaks with his friends from back in Jersey.

Arin had felt a keen sting with each rejection, but had never thought to label it jealousy.

“I guess you were thinking the same thing when you bought us that vacation,” Dan adds after the beat of silence.

Arin throws the angel under the bus. “Yeah. I wanted to give you something we could both enjoy instead of just something I bought from the store.”

“Like a watch?” teases Dan.

“Ah, fuck, that’s not what I meant. I fucking love the watch.” One day Arin would stop shoving his foot in his mouth. “It’s exactly what I would have picked out, too. You know me so well.”

“Seven years,” Dan says softly. “I’ve known you for seven years. But it feels like a lifetime.”

Arin is suddenly afraid of the swell of emotion rising in him. He wants to deflect it with a joke about the seven year itch, but when he opens his mouth, what comes out is “Seven’s a lucky number.”

“Hell yeah. In Hebrew, the word for luck equals seven.”

“What do you mean, equals?”

“There’s this thing with Hebrew, where you can assign a numerical value to a letter. It’s how you get the ‘mark of the beast’ thing. The three sixes.”

“Huh.” Arin absorbs this. He likes it when Dan teaches him things like that, things Arin would never pick up on his own. “How the hell do you know that stuff? Don’t tell me you remember it from Hebrew school.”

Dan shrugs. “I don’t know where I picked that up. My brain holds onto weird things.” He bends to pluck a pink swamp rose from the side of a ditch next to the sidewalk. He turns it over in his hand, probably checking for bugs, and then tucks it behind Arin’s ear.

The brush of Dan’s fingertips on his temple sends a tingle down his spine. The flower’s petals are silky against his skin. Arin tries not to shiver as they touch the shell of his ear. “Aren‘t pink roses for friendship?”

Arin’s not expecting a serious answer. He’s surprised when he gets one.

“I don’t know about that. But I do know they were the only flower allowed to bloom in Jerusalem.”

“Really?”

“It’s in the Talmud. And the Hebrew word for pink comes from the word for rose.”

“That Hebrew school stuff is really coming back to you, isn’t it? How do you say it?”

“I don’t know the word for rose, exactly,” Dan admits. “But I know _pink_ is _varod_.”

“Varod,” Arin tries.

Dan laughs. “Close enough.”

The sidewalk leads them to a short footbridge over yet another marshy patch, bordered on both sides by cypress trees. The vegetation muffles the commotion of the marina behind them. There’s nobody else in sight - it’s just the two of them, alone. A seagull calls overhead, and Arin almost imagines he can hear the murmur of waves all the way from the other side of the island.

“Where are we going?”

Dan pauses at the highest point of the bridge. “I dunno,” he says with a perfect lack of concern. “I just wanted to get away from all the people. This way looked nice. Like a mini jungle.”

“Should we go find food? Head back home?”

Dan hums, looking thoughtful.

“There’s a promenade on the main beach,” Arin suggests. “We could go for a walk, find some fish ‘n’ chips, or something.”

“If you want,” Dan answers after a beat.

“Well, what do _you_ want?”

Arin can’t see Dan’s eyes, but he can tell when he’s cocking an eyebrow. The smile on his face grows an edge, becomes a smirk, sultry and promising. And oh fuck, there go both of Arin’s knees, turning to jelly. It’s amazing what Dan can do to him with just a look.

“I think you know what I want,” Dan murmurs, sliding a hand around Arin’s hip.

“Maybe I don’t.” Arin forces a poker face. “What could you _possibly_ want from me, Daniel?”

“I’ll give you a hint.” Dan curls his finger through Arin’s belt loop, using the grip to pull him closer. “It’s something we haven’t done in like, two weeks, and I’m gonna go fucking crazy if I don’t get it soon.”

Arin doesn’t need Dan to spell it out. He groans quietly as that sinks in. The memory of their shower hits him like a fucking train. “Fuck, Dan.”

“Or, I mean, we could always go look at the beach like you said. I’m sure it’s a great beach. ”

Arin’s already got his phone out. “Fuck that. I’m calling the Uber.”

Dan brushes his hand across Arin’s crotch as he turns, pretending to walk away. “Actually, the promenade sounds nice. Let’s do that instead. I’m sure we’ll have fun. Good, wholesome, chaste fun.”

Arin splutters and grabs Dan’s wrist gently, playfully. Dan pretends to struggle, saying, “Nooo, Arin, I wanna see the beach. You said there’d be fish ‘n’ chips.”

Arin wins the mock wrestle easily. Dan isn’t trying all that hard. Arin kind of suspects Dan likes being manhandled. Dan’s putting on an innocent face, but Arin catches the way he bites his lip when Arin uses his strength to pull him flush against Arin’s body. Grinning, Arin leans in and whispers in his ear. “This is _my_ swamp.”

That breaks Dan, who nearly falls over laughing. Arin smirks triumphantly and opens the Uber app.

**

The ride is short, for which Arin is grateful. Dan’s restless in the car, his long legs jimmying around, fingers tapping on his thigh. Arin can barely keep still, himself. He’s half-planning on just pouncing on Dan the second they get out of the car, conservative neighbours be damned, but the tension breaks when the radio starts playing Smash Mouth’s _All Star_. The driver looks nonplussed as the two break into wild, uncontrollable laughter, Dan collapsing against Arin as far as his seatbelt will allow.

But once they’re inside the house, Arin can’t hold himself back. Dan plucks at Arin’s sweaty tank top and says, “Maybe we should shower, get all this sweat and sunscreen off?” and that brings back the memory of their last shower again - of the miles of Dan’s naked body wet and slippery in his hands - and he lets out a noise halfway between a verbal _yes_ and a groan.

The cool water does nothing to dampen his arousal, nor does Dan seem to mind, despite his love of scalding showers. They’re both half-hard as they wash up, and things get more heated when their soap-slick bodies rub up against each other. Dan looks like a straight-up siren when he tips his head back into the spray to rinse the shampoo from his hair. Arin can hardly believe he’s real.

Dan blinks water out of his eyes and runs the bar of soap over Arin’s chest. Arin shivers, closing his eyes, as the soap and Dan’s wandering hands dip everywhere - his shoulders, his rounded stomach, around to his back, beneath his arms and then firmly down his biceps.

Dan likes his arms. He likes to wrap his fingers around the widest part, as far as they can reach, and when Arin flexes for him, Dan moans.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “You’re so strong.”

“You like that?”

“I love it. I love how you can just pick me up. Carry me around.” Dan’s hands leave trails of bubbles down Arin’s arms. “Throw me on the bed.”

Jesus _fuck_. Arin leans in and traces his tongue up Dan’s neck, ignoring the taste of soap and conditioner. “You like it when I do that?”

“I fucking love it, you know that.” Dan’s body trembles when Arin’s teeth nip his ear. “I love when you take control.”

There’s not much room to show off his strength in the shower. Arin wants to pin Dan to the wall, hold him there, kiss him breathless, make him beg - but even in his aroused state, he doesn’t think it’s a good idea in the slippery shower. He just files that wonderful little factoid away and continues to lick and suck at Dan’s neck.

Dan groans when Arin leaves a hickey on his pulse point, and groans louder when Arin nips at the tender mark. Dan’s hand slips down between their bodies, lightly caressing the length of Arin’s cock.

“Touch me,” Dan whispers in his ear, and when Arin makes a grab for his dick, Dan shakes his head and says, “Not there.”

That confuses Arin, but luckily Dan takes the reins and directs Arin’s soapy hand behind him.

“Oh,” Arin says thickly, staring into Dan’s eager eyes. He’d been fairly sure that this was going to go the other way around, based on what had happened during their last shower. This was something he hadn’t let himself even start to fantasize about. This was too good to be true. “Oh, fuck, okay.”

Arin brings his other hand around, both hands squeezing Dan’s small round cheeks, and then he dips the fingers of his left hand down the cleft, head spinning as he brushes against the puckered skin.

Dan shudders against him as Arin strokes the intimate area. “On your right.”

“What’s on my right?”

Dan nods, pointing with his chin, and Arin looks. There’s a small black-capped clear bottle on the corner of the tub.

“You brought lube,” Arin says, and somehow, that’s what drives it home for him. This isn’t new to Dan - he’s done this before, he _likes_ it, and he wants Arin to do it again.

“I came prepared this time.” Dan’s voice is weak. “Arin, please…”

Things are moving quickly. Arin stumbles, trying to keep up. He grabs the lube and moves them both forward, keeping Dan’s backside and Arin’s hands out of the cascading water so the lube won’t wash away when Arin pours a glossy pile in his palm. It’s probably overkill, but the idea of accidentally hurting Dan scares the crap out of him. He dips his fingers into the slick substance, scooping up a generous amount, and angles his hand back between Dan’s cheeks to rub it over his hole.

Dan arches his back, pushing his chest forward against Arin’s. Arin can feel the thrum of his heartbeat.

“You’ll tell me if I hurt you?” Arin has to say it, even though it might seem odd, given that this obviously isn’t Dan’s first time. He swallows and adds, “Since it’s been a while.”

“You won’t hurt me.”

Arin feels the full weight of that trust on his shoulders. “Okay,” he says, almost to himself. He takes a breath. “Okay.”

Arin’s index finger traces a circle around Dan’s rim, spreading the lube around and getting acquainted with the area. Dan feels impossibly tight at first, but the more Arin touches, the more he can feel Dan’s muscles relaxing for him. Finally, Arin steels himself and presses the tip of his middle finger to the opening.

They both moan at the same time as it pushes inside.

“Oh,” Dan moans quietly. He presses his forehead against Arin’s, his mouth open, lips glistening as the water flows down his chin. Arin watches him, waiting anxiously for any sign of discomfort, but Dan’s face stays relaxed.

“Feels good?”

Dan nods blindly. “Always,” he says thickly. “Fuck, Arin.”

They stay like that for some time, kissing, as Arin carefully moves his finger in and out. Dan’s body is soft inside, and _tight_ , his body clinging to Arin’s finger every time it withdraws. Dan’s rocking his hips to Arin’s slow, careful rhythm, clearly wanting it deeper, but Arin can’t. At least not from this angle.

“Turn around?” Arin finally asks. Dan obeys him at light speed. He spreads his feet, getting his balance, and leans forward with his palms splayed and his head dropped low.

Arin’s head spins faster. He feels out of control, but in the most wonderful way. He steps up behind Dan and leans down to press a kiss between his shoulders. Dan makes a deep sound in his chest, and Arin kisses him again, and again, a little lower, following the curve of Dan’s spine. When he drops to one knee Dan figures out what he’s going to do and says, “Holy fuck, yes.”

Arin’s never done this, either. He settles himself as comfortably as he can and continues the trail of kisses, from the base of Dan’s spine to the top of his cleft.

Dan says, high-pitched, “Oh, my God, Arin” when Arin’s tongue touches him. He spreads his feet even wider, giving Arin the room he needs to press the flat of his tongue against Dan’s hole. Even though Arin’s the one who started this, he feels himself blushing, his face flaring hot as he licks, delicate at first, moving to firm laps that have Dan’s thighs shaking.

Arin loses track of time, lost in Dan’s music and praise, not really finessing his technique but just moving his mouth and tongue and repeating whatever makes Dan moan the loudest. When he needs to breathe he just turns his face to the side, presses it to the smooth skin of Dan’s ass, laughs to himself when the roughness of his beard makes Dan squeak.

It takes Arin a while to realize that Dan’s trying to speak a full sentence. Arin pulls back and sits on his heels. “Too much?”

“Not enough.” Dan takes a ragged breath. “Please, Arin…”

“Please what?”

Dan groans. Arin almost feels bad for teasing him, but he can’t fucking help it. Dan’s voice is so pretty, his begging so sweet. Arin has to push.

“Tell me what you want.” Arin squeezes his ass.

“I…I want you to fuck me,” Dan manages. “Please, please just fuck me, I - _oh_.”

Arin’s grabbed the lube again, coating his fingers, and this time he goes in with two. Dan’s passage is still snug, but Arin can tell that he’s opening up, relaxing from all the foreplay. Still, he goes slow. Too slow for Dan, evidently. Arin has to grab the base of his dick and urge himself back from the edge when Dan arches his back, impaling himself further on Arin’s fingers.

“More,” he pleads. “Arin…”

It takes a good deal of self-control not to give him exactly what he wants, right fucking now. But Arin makes himself think practically. The shower is big, but it’s still not roomy enough to make this work; plus, there’s also the chance that one of them might slip, or the lube will wash away. The thought of hurting Dan, even accidentally, is horrible.

“Wait,” he says, and Dan practically sobs when Arin pulls his fingers out. “Let’s get dried off and move this to the bedroom.”

Time slows to a crawl as they towel off, trying to be thorough, trying to move as fast as they can. Arin’s dick is a hot, heavy, pulsing weight between his legs, so hard it’s practically flushed purple. No sooner are they in the bedroom than they’re kissing again, desperate, Dan sucking Arin’s tongue into his mouth and grabbing at his hair like a wild thing. They end up on the bed, under the covers, Arin trying to keep Dan warm by getting on top of him and roaming his hands around every inch he can reach. Dan’s rock hard, his cock like velvety steel in Arin’s hand.

“The lube - ” Arin starts, while his brain is still firing on all cylinders.

“Got it.” Dan nudges him aside and grabs it from the night stand. Arin hadn’t even seen him drop it there. Arin holds out his hand, expecting Dan to pass it to him, but Dan pours it into his own hand. “Come here, baby girl, I got you.”

Dan’s hand is so skilled, so practiced, as he coats Arin with the lube. It hits Arin again how many times they must have done this. He feels so out of his depth. Fuck, what if he couldn’t please Dan? What if he wasn’t as good as what Dan was used to? What if Dan’s disappointed?

Arin shakes himself. _Focus._ “How should we…”

“My choice?” Dan smiles at him, and Arin thinks he has no goddamn right to look so pure and cute at this moment.

“Your choice.”

“Then you know what I want.” Dan’s smile widens, and Arin feels a jolt of panic. _Fuck, not now, don’t let me fuck up now._ He doesn’t know Dan’s favourite fucking sex position. This isn’t on his Wikipedia page. Fuck.

But Dan’s moving for him, turning onto his front, getting on all fours with his knees spread wide.

Arin says, “Oh, jesus” out loud. Dan’s shoulders shake as he giggles.

“Always with the flattery, Arin.”

Dan sounds so carefree and relaxed. Arin’s nothing of the sort. His heartbeat sounds like it’s about to beat out of his chest. He gets on his knees behind Dan, and fuck, he’s lined up so perfectly. Dan knows exactly the right height to be at. Dan knows exactly how to get ready - how to get fucked.

Arin looks down at himself, at his cock resting against Dan’s small pink hole. The visual is hard to process. Arin cants his hips forward, applying the lightest pressure, his whole world narrowed down to this - down to just the sight of Dan, waiting, _wanting_. Arin feels drunk - he feels like there’s a dam inside him, about to burst - he feels too much at once.

Something’s going to give.

It feels like the whole world shifts on its axis as the head of his cock slips inside. They both moan at once. Arin’s jaw drops, and he’s glad Dan can’t see the dumbstruck look on his face. His dick looks fucking huge next to Dan’s small ass, but Dan’s just _taking_ it, urging Arin forward.

“Slow,” Dan says, and Arin gives him what he wants, presses half his length inside. Dan’s back heaves as he breathes, and then he wriggles his hips and says, “Keep going, deeper, I’m okay.” Arin gives in, and then his balls are pressed flush to Dan’s ass and Dan begs, “Arin, please, fuck me.”

Arin gives in, again, and starts to move.

“ _Yes_ ,” Dan hisses between his teeth at the first cautious thrust. His head tips back, his curls bouncing on his shoulder blades. “Oh, _Arin,_ yes.”

Dan is loud. Arin might have known he’d be loud. His singer’s lungs and musical voice make for some wonderful moans, little _ohs_ mixed with curses. When Arin picks up the pace, his name is added to the mix, and Dan’s cries start to increase in pitch and volume. Arin leans his weight forward and Dan’s moan stutters, his arms almost giving out.

Arin’s heart leaps, but then Dan gasps. “Right there, fuck, do that again.”

Arin knows what that means. He tries to keep his angle steady, to slide up alongside the little bundle of nerves instead of just ramming into it; it’s the steady, gliding friction that always feels good for Arin when he does this to himself with his fingers. And judging by the noises coming from Dan, it’s fucking good for him too.

But Arin needs to know. “Is this good? Is this how you want it?”

“Harder,” Dan demands immediately. “Give it to me harder.”

Things go fuzzy from there. Arin’s lost in a haze of pleasure, his mind gone, his body singing. He grabs the lube again, tipping the bottle and letting it spill onto where their bodies are joined, and then he makes a cautious slippery thrust and Dan loses control. He matches Arin’s pace, rocking back to meet each thrust firmly. The sound of their bodies smacking together is almost as loud as their moans. Eventually, Dan can’t support himself with his arms any longer and lets himself fall forward onto the pillows.

“Don’t stop,” he gasps when Arin slows, concerned. “Don’t - ”

“I got you.” Arin keeps a firm hold on his hips, keeping his ass up, relentless with his smooth thrusts. “Not gonna stop.” He never wants to stop. He never wants this to end.

Dan turns his face to the side and reaches beneath himself, whimpering, “Oh, oh, fuck, Arin I’m so close, don’t stop, please right there, _Arin_ \- ”

When Dan comes, he _squeezes_ , his passage fluttering around Arin’s cock. That, combined with Dan’s near-scream of his name, sends Arin right over the edge with him. Fireworks burst behind Arin’s eyes and he’s flying, soaring, on top of the world, careening out of control.

Everything fades to darkness, and Arin lets himself fall down into it until Dan pulls him from the void with a laugh.

“Arin, I’m sleepy too, but. You’re kinda squishing me.”

Arin flushes. “Sorry.” He dismounts, carefully withdrawing his softening cock.

As soon as he’s free Dan’s scrambling back to his knees and turning around, ready to pounce. It’s probably the fiftieth time Dan’s kissed him, but something is different now. Arin cups the back of Dan’s head and parts his lips with his tongue, and suddenly he realizes that he can almost taste everything he’d ever wanted - everything he’d thought he’d never have again.

He breaks the kiss, his head reeling. _What is this? What’s happening to me?_

Dan doesn’t seem to notice. “That was amazing,” he says with a sigh, dropping back onto the pillows. “I love you.”

It had become such a reflex to say it back. Now Arin trips over the words, each one heavy on his tongue.

“I love you too.”

**

Afterward, Dan sleeps.

Arin does not. He’s feeling too restless to take a nap.

Something’s happening to him, or maybe it already happened. Arin wanders the little house, pacing circles in the living room, staring at the pale mint painted walls. Eventually he ends up on the daybed. His laptop is still there, plugged into the outlet beneath the window. Arin opens it, his fingers knowing what they want to do even before the rest of him does.

He types in the words both Dans had spoken to him, the words he’d chosen for their impromptu in-flight Hangman game. The words that were etched on Arin’s heart.

 _Stay with Me Forever_.

He’s not sure what he’s expecting. All of Dan’s other music had been pretty much what Arin would have guessed - catchy rock music with uplifting lyrics, and Dan’s impressive vocals taking center stage. Obviously, if Dan wrote this for his husband, and given it such a title, it would probably be slower, but Arin has a hard time picturing Dan doing a slow rock ballad. His backing band always looks like they fell out of a time machine from the 80s, with bigger hair than Dan and leather jackets with too many chains and zippers.

But this video features nobody else but Dan. Dan, dressed in a soft blue tee and plain black pants, his hair in a tame low bun and a guitar perched on his thigh. Arin had never seen Dan play anything for real; he liked to fool around with his signature bass, but he’d never recorded anything. He wasn’t good with instruments - he’d told Arin so many times. And yet here he is, his brow creased with concentration and his face serious. He starts to play, slow, hopeful, dreamy. The notes resonate through Arin’s body. He physically feels each string being plucked.

And then Dan’s eyes lift to the camera, soft and hooded, looking directly into Arin’s soul as his beautiful voice begins to sing.

 _The end of fear is where we begin_  
_I’m never gonna be the same man again_  
_Bright as you are, shining for me_  
_all I needed was right in front of me_

The video is simple. At first it’s just Dan, playing by himself in a nondescript bedroom. And then, as the chord changes and Dan moves into the bridge, it cuts away to a clip of - of himself. Of Arin. He’s standing in the old Grump kitchen, the one they used before the big reno. He’s not doing anything of note - he’s just talking, gesturing, grinning over some joke that Arin will never hear.

 _It’s a long way down_  
_and I’m not afraid_  
_you know all that I am_  
_And you still want to stay_

It’s not even the words that capture him the most. It’s Dan’s heartfelt, hopeful, almost shaky delivery, like he’s half-afraid to lay his soul so bare. Each word rings with sincerity, with a sort of desperate passion - it’s almost too much for Arin to take. But he can’t stop listening. He can’t stop watching. He can’t take his eyes off of Dan.

 _Stay here with me_  
_Stay with me_  
_Forever…_

There are more clips. Arin holds his breath when he actually recognizes some of them. There’s the April Fools facecam footage where they’d snuggled up together - there’s a bit from the escape room power hour - there’s even an old blooper from a commercial that Arin’s sure they never posted for the fans. In each one, the shot is framed to get Arin in the center. Arin, doing ordinary things, looking as ordinary as he usually does - and yet Dan had loved these brief moments enough to immortalize them in a music video.

 _He loves me so much,_ Arin thinks to himself, paralyzed with awe and maybe something else.

And there he is again, on the screen, on the couch in the Grump meeting room. Dan is beside him. They’re looking into each other’s eyes as if nothing else in the world exists, not even whoever is filming them. Dan takes Arin’s face in his hands and kisses him - long, lingering, sweet. They laugh and break apart suddenly - the reason, presumably, being Ross bouncing into the side of the shot and fake-gagging at the camera. Arin chucks a couch cushion with surprising accuracy and Dan laughs, collapsing into Arin’s lap.

 _It’s a long way down_  
_and I’m not afraid_  
_you know all that I am_  
_And you still want to stay_  
_With me_  
_Stay with me…_

The guitar notes slow to a halt. Dan drapes his arm over his guitar, tendrils of hair falling over his face, his eyes full of emotion.

Arin can’t breathe.

He closes the laptop and sits up. He’s tingling all over, uncomfortably, his face hot and his arms and legs feeling like useless noodles. An odd ringing fills his ears and head.

This was bad. This was very bad.

The truth that had been there for so long could no longer be pushed back or denied. He didn’t just love Danny. He wasn’t just attracted to him. He was - oh, God, he was in love. Jesus fucking Christ, he was in love with Dan. It wasn’t this Dan - and yet it was - they were the same - the same happy, bright personality, the softness, the deep intelligence often hidden behind that megawatt smile and contagious laughter that bubbled so easily to the surface. The patient, loyal, hardworking nature, so much like Arin and yet so unique to Dan; they complemented each other, at work and at home, and apparently in bed.

It’s been so long since Arin fell in love that he’d forgotten what it felt like. But he knows now that it’s the reason for this feeling, how it’s like his veins are full of something fizzy, how he thinks his feet might just float up off the floor when he walks. The truth is so wonderfully, stupidly obvious - he’s known it all along - he’s known it for years. _Years_. But he never let himself see it. He’d never let himself believe that he could ever have a love as perfect as what he’d had with Suzy.

Today, he had been different. Dan had told him so. And Arin had felt it too. Arin searches himself to find the reason. It doesn’t take him long to click.

In his heart, he had finally let Suzy go.

And in doing so, he had allowed someone else to come in.

Nothing could ever, or would ever replace Suzy. And nothing could make him stop loving her as a friend - a best friend at that. But Arin was deeply monogamous, and there was no room in his heart for more than one partner. Friends, yes, as many friends as he could find. But love - romantic love - took up too much space.

Somewhere between his divorce and now, Dan had filled that emptiness.

Something else takes hold of him then. Arin’s jaw clenches as he realizes how much worse he’s making things for himself.

Because this Dan loves him back. Arin’s life here is so good, it’s almost terrifying. He’s got everything figured out. But this isn’t Arin’s world, and he’s supposed to be finding a way out.

The trouble is, now Arin’s not sure that he ever wants to leave.

How the fuck was he supposed to go home, to the disaster he’d left behind? Even if Dan forgave him, how was Arin going to sit there every day in the office, pretending that he just wanted to be friends? What was the point of showing him this in the first place? Why would any magical being - angel or not - hate Arin so much as to taunt him with this happiness and then rip it all away?

_I told myself I would stop running._

Arin sinks into old habits and stops thinking, afraid to face reality. He goes back into the bedroom and climbs into bed next to Dan.

The next day, the sunset chases them westward as Arin flies home from Florida with his husband, determined not to wonder how much time they had left.


	12. Holding On

“You never used to suck this hard,” Dan observes cheerfully, sitting on the Grump couch with his huge feet comfortably tucked in Arin’s lap. 

Playing games and talking at the same time is hard enough without the additional distraction of Dan’s toes wiggling around between his thighs, but Arin can’t say he minds. “You love how hard I suck.”

Dan laughs anyway. Arin’s glad that his sudden ineptitude at a game that Other-Arin apparently did pretty well at strikes Dan as funny. Hopefully the lovelies of this world would, too. It’s easy to blame his lack of knowledge on their extended break. And if there’s one thing Arin’s good at, it’s slipping into his Grump persona, covering up any awkward slips with yelling and curses.

“Dude, it’s the fucking jet lag,” Arin says. “Fucking Florida. Next time, let’s go somewhere closer. In the same time zone. Baja California, maybe.”

“I like going to Florida once a year with you,” Dan says mildly, as he tries to open a bag of Skittles with his teeth. “It’s nice to have a tradition.”

“Well, Florida’s a shithole. Let’s make a new tradition.”

Dan glances at him. Arin can see his face in his peripheral vision, the way his head is tilted to the side. “But you always say it brings up good memories.”

“Of what? Nothing good ever happened in Florida.” 

“It’s where we had our first kiss,” Dan says quietly.

Arin glances over. Dan actually looks mildly hurt. Shit.

“Well, yeah, I know,” Arin says quickly, like he actually does. “That’s like, the only redeeming quality of the whole damn state.” 

Dan looks mollified at that, and more so when Arin takes one hand off the controller to start rubbing one of Dan’s giant feet.

“Mmm, that’s nice. Your hand is so warm.” Dan closes his eyes. “He’s touching my foot,” he clarifies for the benefit of the fans. “My _foot_ , okay?”

“Yeah, just his foot.” Arin works up some saliva in his mouth and leans forward to make a gross _schlick-schlick_ sound with his tongue, right into the mic.

Dan says “ _Arin_ ” in a scandalized tone. His cheeks turn pink when he giggles. When he passes his bag of Skittles to Arin, Arin knows all is forgiven. He breathes an internal sigh of relief. 

“So do you want me to pull up the walkthrough?” Dan eats another Skittle as he watches Arin clumsily fight his way through a bunch of enemies on-screen . 

“Maybe you can do that next time on Game Grumps.” Arin button-smashes at an enemy and ends up falling off a bridge for the fourth time. “I’m probably gonna keep sucking.” He pauses the game when he respawns. “Sucking my own _dick_ , cause that shit’s easier than this fuckin’ nightmare game.”

Dan reaches for his drink. “We’ve got at least five more episodes to do. You wanna keep going with this, or take a break and play something else?” 

“I think I’ve got one more of these left in me. Let me look at the walkthrough?”

“I’m having a hard time figuring out which section we’re on.” Dan hands Arin his phone. “I think you’re going in circles.” 

Arin sighs. He definitely is going in circles. “I can figure it out,” he claims with more confidence than he really has. But then Arin gets distracted as he watches Dan pull his hair back into a ponytail, the hair elastic in his mouth. He tips his head back, baring his neck, and Arin has to put the phone down and shuffle closer so he can kiss it.

“ _Arin_ ,” Dan protests, but his tone betrays him. “We gotta…finish the… _ah!_!” He shivers when Arin nips at his ear with the barest hint of teeth, just the way he likes it. 

“Gotta finish the what, now?” _He’ll taste like Skittles if I kiss him._

“The…the session, Arin, we really… _oh_.” Dan’s mouth falls open. The hair elastic drops down somewhere in the couch.

God, Arin loves this, loves the way Dan falls to pieces for him. It’s the sweetest poison, learning everything that Dan likes, learning how he loves his hair tugged, his neck bitten, his thighs kissed and his wrists held down. Arin’s never going to be able to forget any of this. And yet, when he goes back home, he’ll have to. While he’s here, he wants to make every moment count. 

Arin pushes back the thoughts of going home and grabs at Dan’s chin, turning his head to the side for a desperate, clumsy kiss.

“What’s gotten into you lately?” Dan asks when they part. 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like you’re insatiable.” 

Arin raises an eyebrow. “Are you complaining?”

“Well, not exactly.” Dan grins. 

Since they’d gotten home from Florida, Arin hadn’t been able to keep his hands off of Dan. Years of repressed attraction, tinged with desperation, plus the boost of self-confidence - fuck, he’d missed that - all combined to turn his sex drive up three hundred percent. 

They had made love for the second time just hours after getting home from the airport. This time Dan was on his back, his bony knees bent up toward his chest, his arms behind his head as he gripped the headboard to brace against Arin’s smooth thrusts. Arin had taken his sweet time with him, pausing and pulling out whenever he felt close, until Dan was red in the face and begging him to put it back in. 

The memory feels like fire coursing through him and only gets him more worked up.

“Okay,” Dan sucks in a breath when Arin’s hand dips between his thighs. “Arin, if you keep this up, we gotta turn the mics off.”

“Yeah,” Arin murmurs, letting his lips touch Dan’s ear as he speaks. “Maybe you should tell me to stop before we traumatize Matt and Ryan.”

“Who?”

Dan’s blank tone snaps Arin out of his X-rated thoughts. Too late, he remembers - it’s still Barry - Barry never left, and never stopped being their main editors. Arin opens his mouth to turn it into a joke but nothing comes out. Five agonizing seconds pass. Dan’s not saying anything, and Arin has to, fuck, something, anything.

“I meant Barry,” Arin says after that horribly long pause. The air suddenly feels thick. 

“Oh.” Dan’s forehead creases. He smiles, but it looks puzzled, like he’s still waiting for the punch line. “Were you talking about, like, SuperMega Matt and Ryan? Why would they ever hear this?”

“Man, I don’t fuckin’ know. You’re distracting, alright?” Was that too defensive?

Dan leans away from Arin and sits up straight. The crease in his forehead doesn’t fade. “Maybe we should get back to the game.”

Arin tries not to wince. “Yeah, alright.”

He spends the rest of the session wondering if the tension in the air is just his paranoid imagination. _I’m fucking up too much,_ he thinks to himself. He’d been lowering his guard, getting carried away. So many things were similar here, or exactly the same. It was easy to forget all the thousand little differences.

When they’re done recording, Dan stands and stretches. “I’m gonna go grab a snack. You think there are any of those chicken tenders left in the fridge?”

“Doubt it. Ross got in there this morning.”

Dan snorts. “I guess it’s still worth checking.”

“I’ll come with. I need something to drink.”

Arin’s closer to the door, so he leads the way. When he opens the door to the kitchen, he stops dead.

Dan, following close behind, walks right into him with a quiet yelp of surprise. “Arin, what the hell?”

“Uh. Who is that?” There’s a stranger in the kitchen. Younger. Female. She’s opening the cupboards, peering inside. Nobody else is in the kitchen. She’s being very quiet. Almost suspiciously so. Arin puts an arm out to stop Dan from coming in after him.

“What?” Dan must not be able to see her. Arin’s blocking the doorway. 

His heart still pounding from the shock of the unexpected, Arin clears his throat. “Uh - excuse me,” he starts, lamely. “Uh, miss? What do you think you’re doing here?”

“What the hell, Arin?” Dan edges his way around Arin and says, “Rosa?”

The woman is clearly confused. Her eyes are on Arin, but she replies to Dan. “Yes? Am I…not supposed to be here?”

Dan looks between her and Arin. “It’s fine,” Dan tells her slowly, when Arin says nothing. “I think Arin’s just… confused. It’s been a long day. I guess he thought it was your day off.”

“Should I go clean somewhere else?”

Too late Arin notices the plastic caddy full of spray bottles and cleaners, the broom propped up against the wall. _Oh fucking hell._

“No,” Dan gives her his most charming smile. “It’s okay. We’ll let you be and go…Arin, do you want to go to your office?”

Arin’s stomach sinks even lower. “Yeah, sounds good.”

The cleaning lady - Rosa, not Letty - chances a look at Arin. _I scared her,_ he realizes, feeling a wave of shame. “Sorry, uh, Rosa,” he says, the name foreign on his tongue. “I - I dunno what I was thinking. Dan’s right. For some reason I thought you were off today.”

“That’s okay,” she says. She gives him a reluctant smile. “I’ll finish in here very soon, okay?”

“Take your time.” God, Arin feels like an idiot. He turns around, and Dan’s face is pale. Without a word, he turns in the direction of Arin’s office. Arin follows.

Once inside, Dan closes the door behind them and takes a deep breath. “Arin?”

“Yeah.” 

“What’s really going on?”

“What do you mean?”

Dan sighs. “I’m not playing this game. You know what I’m asking.”

“I’m fine. I just forgot she was working today. I thought it was Saturday.”

“Arin, you - ” Dan runs a hand over his hair. “Rosa always works on Saturdays.”

 _Swing and a miss._ “Oh. Yeah.”

The silence makes Arin wish he could drop down through the floor. Dan’s face is still so pale. 

“Maybe…maybe we should get you to a doctor or something.”

“A doctor?” Arin echoes for lack of something better to say.

“Yeah. You’re scaring me.”

“How?” Arin reaches for his arm, tries to smile. “Jesus, Dan, don’t be scared. I’m just being a doof as usual.” 

“You’re…you’re different. Not in any huge way, but in like, a hundred different little ways. And I don’t like how your memory just has these…big fucking holes in it all of a sudden. It’s been happening for a while now but you’re getting worse. Today’s been - it’s been weird, Arin.” Saying it out loud seems to scare Dan even more. “Do you feel okay?”

“I feel fine,” Arin lies, willing his hands to stop shaking. He tries for a smile. “I’ve always had a shit memory.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t - Arin, you forgot Brian’s kid’s name last week.”

Arin feels his hands growing cold. He’d thought Dan had forgotten, or chalked it up to a really stupid joke. “It just - I blanked out for a second.” Ah, shit, that doesn’t sound any better. “I’ve been really stressed out lately.”

Dan pulls at his hair. “When was the last time you had a physical?”

“I don’t know.” That much is true. “I feel fine, okay? I’m not sick.”

“Maybe you should make an appointment.”

“Dan - ” 

“Please.” Dan’s voice shakes. He sits on the couch Arin keeps in his office to nap on and presses a hand to his face. “For me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know!” Dan cries, so loud Arin winces. He doesn’t want anyone else to hear them arguing in here. Dan visibly collects himself as best as he can and lowers his voice. “This isn’t normal for you. And I - I just - fuck, I don’t know. You’re scaring me.”

Arin feels like his control is slipping. “Danny,” he tries. “Babe. I swear I’m okay. Stop worrying about me.”

“But what if - fuck, what if you have a brain tumour or something?”

Arin sits on the couch next to Dan and takes his trembling body into his arms. He’d forgotten how anxious Dan could be, how obsessive he was when it came to worrying about people he loved. “I don’t have a brain tumour, baby. It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

Dan leans into the hug, but tenses when Arin tries to kiss him on the cheek. Arin freezes when he sees the look in Dan’s eyes.

“Don’t,” Dan says, and his faint voice cuts Arin to the bone. “I’m…I’m trying to think.”

“Dan, it’s okay. Stop this. Stop obsessing.” Arin grabs for his hand and squeezes it until the shaking stops. “You know what? I’ll call the doctor first thing tomorrow. I feel fine, but I’ll make the appointment. For you.”

Dan’s eyes bore into him, still anxious, but hungry for reassurance. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay.” Dan closes his eyes and lets out a breath. “Okay.” He looks at Arin, his eyes bright, still frantic, but less so than before. This time, when Arin goes in for a kiss, Dan doesn’t pull away.

He _does_ taste like Skittles. The sweetness on Arin’s tongue lingers long after the kiss is over. Dan lays his head on Arin’s shoulder and Arin holds him, stroking his fluffy hair until he calms down.

“I’m okay,” Arin murmurs. He says it over and over. “I’m fine. Everything is okay.”

Eventually, Dan says, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” 

“Sometimes I just - you know. Like you said, I get obsessed with stupid things. I try to stop it and sometimes I can’t.”

Fuck, Arin feels guilty. Dan knows something’s wrong, and he’s _right_ , and here Arin is, trying to convince him that it’s all Dan’s OCD’s fault. “It’s okay,” he says. “I know how you get sometimes.” 

Dan takes a deep breath and nods. “Okay,” he says, rousing himself. He blinks like he’s just waking up and checks the time on his phone. “Shit, I need to head out soon. I have to make it to Arcadia by three-thirty.”

“Arcadia.” That strikes an old memory in Arin. It’s where Other-Dan recorded his NSP vocals. Thinking of his old life, of the other Dan who didn’t love him, makes Arin suddenly anxious. It brings to mind all the time Dan couldn’t spend with him, of his hectic schedule, his constant absence around the Grump space. Arin’s not really sure how he used to deal with it. “Can I come with you?”

Dan looks puzzled. “Really? I told you before, you don’t have to come with me to everything.“

“I’m your manager, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but I don’t need a lot of managing when I sing. You really want to come? Aren’t you busy?”

 _Probably, but I’ll be fucked if I know where to start._ “Not really. And of course I want to come.” 

“You’ll be bored,” Dan warns, but Arin thinks he looks pleased. “We’re gonna be there for hours.”

Arin shrugs. He knows the routine. He’s okay with being on the sidelines. “I’ll bring my phone. I’ll be fine. And maybe on the way home we could go out for sushi.”

“Arin Hanson,” Dan says primly, “are you asking me out on a date?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I just want to escape the sad reality of our cooking skills.”

“Yesterday you told me that the sandwich I made you was, and I quote, ‘better than a hot wet beej.’”

“Yeah, well, I was just hoping you’d be so flattered that you’d try to prove me wrong.”

That finally earns Arin the smile he’d been waiting for. “Go grab your stuff. I gotta go tell Barry to move his car.”

“I like it when you tell me what to do.”

And just like that, the awkwardness is gone. Dan rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Like I didn’t know that already.”

Arin feels his face heat up. Dan looks smug, and as he sidles by he grabs a handful of Arin’s ass. 

Arin has to give his dick a pep talk and splash his face with cold water before heading back out into the main space.

**

The session runs late. Dinner takes longer than Arin predicted. And still, neither of them want to go home.

In the back of a crowded theatre, Arin quickly becomes distracted by his wandering thoughts. He can still feel where Dan had grabbed his ass earlier today. He can still recall their shower together, days and days ago, the feeling of Dan spreading him open, Dan’s cock pressing into his skin. They’d come so close. Arin doesn’t think anything can feel as good as fucking Dan, but he’s been pretty damn eager to find out how it feels from the other side.

The darkness of the theatre hides the bulge in his pants, thank fuck. Arin shifts his legs uncomfortably. Dan’s head turns toward him and Arin watches his gaze flicker down over Arin’s body, hears him swallow once. His hand settles on top of Arin’s on the armrest between them, squeezing hard as if to say, _Jesus, Arin._

Arin cuts the tension. He grabs the bag of popcorn and settles it over his lap. Then he takes Dan’s hand and directs it in. It takes Dan a moment to get the joke, but then Arin has the satisfaction of watching him shake as he tries to laugh noiselessly.

“Think you forgot to cut a hole in the bottom,” Dan whispers.

“Ah, fuck. I knew something wasn’t right.”

He’s able to calm down for the rest of the movie, which is actually pretty decent. But once they’re in the car, alone, Arin can’t fucking help himself.

He kisses Dan before he gets a chance to start the car. Dan makes a surprised noise, but kisses him back.

“I didn’t know you had such a thing for Freddie Mercury,” Dan teases, smacking Arin’s hand away when he tries to go for Dan’s thighs. “Arin, no, we’re in public!”

“Barely.” Arin’s blood is pumping hard. 

“We’re like twenty minutes away from our house. Think you can keep it in your pants ‘til then?”

“No,” Arin groans. “My dick’s gonna explode.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Dan pulls on his seatbelt. “If you play your cards right, I’ll kiss it better when we get home.”

“Sounds fun, but I’d rather you just fuck me.”

Dan’s hand slips and the key misses the ignition. “Jesus Christ, Arin.”

“Think you can do that for me, Dan?” 

“Arin, oh my God, I have to drive.” Dan’s voice is weak and his face is red.

“Just tell me.”

“I’ll fuck you, okay, God, of course I will. Just - hold on, okay? I can’t fuck you if I kill us both on the way.”

“That’s fair.” 

Arin has time to think about the reality of what’s going to happen. He’s no stranger to having things in his ass, but - well, fuck, Dan’s dick is a lot bigger than his fingers, or any of the toys he’d played with. But Arin trusts Dan not to hurt him. And he’s wanted this for a long time. The way Dan reacted to getting fucked was enough to make anyone want to give it a try.

As soon as they get inside, Dan is on him, pinning Arin to the wall and kissing him hard enough to bruise. Arin outweighs him by fifty pounds and still can’t resist his force. Not that he wants to.

“Upstairs,” Dan says hoarsely after leaving Arin gasping for breath. “Now.”

Arin doesn’t remember how he managed to climb the stairs, or how his clothing disappeared. All he can think about is the mind-melting need to be taken, to be filled, used, _fucked_. Dan manhandles him onto the bed and somehow he already has the lube out and in his hand.

“Get on your stomach for me, baby girl,” Dan orders in his siren’s sweet voice. Arin rolls over and grabs the pillow for dear life. Dan’s hands knead his ass, squeezing, massaging, rubbing in circles until Arin is half out of his mind.

“Dan, please,” he gasps, his voice cracking.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Dan says, almost dreamily.

Arin groans with frustration and ruts against the bed. Dan smacks one cheek lightly. “Jesus, you’re so impatient.”

“That’s because someone’s taking a million years to put their dick in me.”

“Whatever happened to the romance?” Dan teases. He spreads Arin open. Arin expects the warm touch of Dan’s fingers on his exposed hole, but instead he gets a cold wet splash. Dan laughs at his indignant yelp.

“What are you doing?” Arin’s going to lose his mind.

“Admiring a masterpiece.” Dan squeezes out more lube. His huge thumb finally rubs over Arin’s hole, spreading the lube generously over his entrance. It probably only takes him ten seconds to work one finger inside, but to Arin it feels like an eternity.

This is nothing new. Arin breathes in and out, keeping his muscles relaxed. It always feels weird at first, but Arin knows it gets better once his body gets used to it. It doesn’t take long for Dan to give him a second finger. 

“You’re so fucking ready,” Dan murmurs out loud, as he pumps his fingers in and out. Already, it’s starting to feel less clinical, the friction spreading warmth through Arin’s groin. “Look how easily you take that.”

“Fuck yeah I’m ready. What are you waiting for?” 

“I’m waiting for you to lose the attitude.” Dan twists his fingers, brushing his knuckles over Arin’s prostate. His other hand comes down lightly on Arin’s ass again. It’s not a hard hit but Arin’s so fucking sensitive right now that his whole body jerks like Dan used a belt or something.

Arin curses into the pillow as the sensations overwhelm him. And then a third finger is pressing against his entrance, and shit, three is a lot more than two. Three makes him groan deep from his chest, makes him press his face into the pillow as his mouth opens in shock. Their playful banter is gone now. Dan’s breath is coming fast and rough, his hand shaking as he grips Arin’s thigh, maybe to avoid touching his own dick. 

Arin only gets a few pumps of Dan’s hand before the fingers are being hurriedly tugged out and Dan’s shoving Arin’s thighs apart, getting himself positioned on top. Arin is still laid flat on the bed. He can’t do much from here, but fuck, it feels amazing to just - to lay here, letting Dan do the work, unable to see what’s coming so every touch is a wonderful surprise. He knows it’s coming, but he still gasps when he feels the thick, blunt head of Dan’s cock against his hole.

“Fuck,” he gasps. 

Dan kisses his shoulder. “You ready for me?” 

“So fuckin’ ready. I told you that about a year ago. If you don’t put it in I’m gonna - _fuck!_ ” Arin’s arms flail out in front of him and grab the headboard as Dan cants his hips forward. “Oh, my God!”

There’s so much lube on Dan, so much on Arin, and he’s stretched and opened up - it shouldn’t be a surprise when the head of Dan’s cock slips inside without any resistance. It already feels like so much, and there’s still so much more to go. 

Arin’s not scared. “Come on,” he begs, shameless. “Give it to me, stop holding back.”

But Dan’s in control. All Arin can do is wriggle, trying to get Dan to move faster. It doesn’t work, and Dan just keeps sliding steadily inside until Arin gives up and lays still, just taking it. 

It isn’t until Dan’s all the way inside that he lets himself speak. “Tell me when.”

“Tell you when what?”

“When I can move.”

Arin feels filled to the fucking brim, but there’s no pain. Dan’s far too gentle for this to hurt. “Do it,” he says. “Do it. Fuck me.” And, fuck, saying that out loud drives Arin wild, so he does it again. “Fuck me hard.”

Dan doesn’t disappoint. He resettles his weight for better leverage and starts to thrust, long smooth strokes that feel impossibly deep. Arin’s noisier than he thought he’d be, noisier than he usually is when he experiments with anal play, but he can’t help it. Sounds are just - coming out of him, like his body doesn’t know what to do with itself. Dan, on the other hand, is more quiet than when he bottoms; he’s breathing hard, so focused on his rhythm that all he can do is grunt.

Arin’s full-on humping the mattress. His dick is crushed beneath the weight of his own body, and he can barely get any friction. Words are coming out of his mouth but Arin doesn’t hear them. “Dan, oh fuck, oh jesus, _Dan_.”

“Yeah,” Dan groans. “Yeah, fuck, Arin, taking my cock so good. Always so tight no matter how much I fuck you.”

It’s lucky that Arin doesn’t have to hold himself up. Those words would have made him collapse. He shakes, every nerve in his body on fire. Dan’s cock drives into him harder, deeper, and Arin wants more. But pinned down like this, he has no way of taking control. He can’t change the angle or push back into Dan’s thrusts. All he can do is grab the sheets and take it.

It’s too much - it’s not enough - Dan’s hands grab his wrists, pinning his hands down above his head, and even though Arin had no hope of reaching his dick before, the added restraint shoves him closer to the edge. He has no leverage, no strength, but he struggles anyway just to feel Dan tighten his grip, fuck him harder. 

“F-fuck.” Arin can barely fucking speak. “Danny…”

“You close, baby girl?” Dan’s hair is sticking to Arin’s sweat-damp back. His voice sounds strained. He’s worn out, his little muscles exhausted, one step away from collapsing. But still, his hips keep pumping, his rhythm staying strong. 

Arin is past words. He just nods, hoping Dan will see it. Dan growls, shifting his weight forward. The angle changes just slightly and Arin sees stars burst behind his eyelids. “Holy shit!”

“That’s right, you fuckin’ like that.” Dan’s grip shifts from Arin’s wrists to his arms, squeezing the taut muscles as his weight keeps them pinned in place. “You’re gonna come just like this. I don’t even have to touch you, do I?”

That’s what finally does it for Arin - the combination of being held down, his ass filled up, and Dan’s growling voice and domineering attitude. Arin surges forward as he comes, hot and sticky against his thighs, pooling on the sheets below. Dan doesn’t stop fucking him. Each thrust brings forth another weak spurt from Arin’s cock, milking him dry.

With the last of his strength, Arin manages to roll over onto his back so he can breathe. Dan, propped over him on his knees and elbows, looks at him from beneath the wild bird’s nest of his hair, his eyes hooded and gleaming. He smiles at Arin’s awestruck face and hugs him.

“I remember the way you looked the first time we made love.” Dan strokes Arin’s damp hair. “It was just like this. Like I rocked your world so hard I shook some of your brains out.”

“Yeah,” Arin answers hoarsely, his heart pounding. _Is it possible to miss something you never had?_ “I…think you did.”

“Good.” Dan hugs him. “I love you.”

Arin holds on, crushing them together, not caring about the mess on his stomach or the growing wet spot from where Dan’s cum is leaking out of him. He’s sweaty and disgusting and he can barely breathe, but he clings on, determined to memorize every detail of this moment. “I love you too,” he says, and even those three powerful words can’t adequately describe the way he feels about Dan. “I love you so goddamned much.”

Arin has to force himself to let go when he feels Dan struggling to get up. The air is cold on Arin’s damp skin without Dan’s body pressed against it. “Don’t go.”

Dan laughs. “Arin, we’re disgusting. We gotta go clean up.”

Arin groans.

“I know, baby girl. I want to stay here forever with you, too.” Dan props himself up on his elbows and kisses Arin’s nose. “But I also want to clean the lube off my dick and change the sheets, or we’ll both really regret it in the morning.”

When Arin shifts his legs, he feels more wetness seep out. “Okay, yeah, you’ve got a point.”

Once they’re cleaned up, Dan chucks the bed sheet into the laundry hamper and drapes on a new one. It does feel much better to lay back, squeaky clean, with the slight ache in his backside the only remnant of their encounter. Arin stretches out beneath the blanket luxuriously and Dan takes his usual position - head on Arin’s shoulder, leg slung across his thighs. The post-sex exhaustion renders them both mute for some time.

Eventually Dan says, “Arin?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“You’re sure you feel okay?”

The question slices through Arin’s haze. He opens his eyes to the darkness. “I’m sure.”

“But you’re still going to make that appointment? Just in case.”

“I promised I would.”

“Okay.” Dan breathes. “Okay. I just want to make sure.”

“I know.”

“Maybe it’s stupid. Maybe I’m just being my paranoid obsessive self. I _know_ I’m being paranoid and obsessive. But I can’t…” Dan grasps for words. “I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. I need to know for sure.”

Arin reaches blindly for Dan’s hand. “I understand.”

“Brain tumours are really rare.”

“Exactly.”

“But I don’t think you know how much it hurts to think of losing you.”

Arin’s stomach twists. “Actually, I think I do.”

Dan’s quiet for a while. Then he says, “Thank you for not making me feel stupid about this.”

Arin doesn’t know how to answer. But he doesn’t have to. Dan snuggles into his side, sighs, and falls silent. When Arin opens his eyes and looks down, Dan’s face is totally slack. He’s asleep.

It’s not so easy for Arin.

He twists and turns, unable to sleep, unable to cope with the sense of everything being pulled out from under his feet. He slips into hazy half-dreams and right back out again, the feeling of finality growing stronger and stronger until he feels like he’s going to scream. His mind plays tricks on him; in his head he opens his eyes to find himself alone in the bed, or worse, back home alone in his own bed, knowing Dan is miles away.

He thought he couldn’t cope without Suzy. Scratch that - he knew he couldn’t cope without Suzy. Arin knows now that he isn’t in love with her anymore, but that doesn’t mean he knows how to survive without her constant support and companionship. And now he has to contend with being hopelessly in love with his other best friend.

_Don’t let me go home. Let me stay here forever. Please…_

Minutes later - or maybe hours later, it’s hard to tell - Dan stirs beside him. Finding Arin rolled away from him, Dan turns too, so he can spoon Arin from behind. His movements are so careful. _He thinks I’m asleep,_ Arin realizes, feeling Dan’s arm wiggle it’s way across his hip tenderly, softly.

Dan doesn’t stay awake for long. It’s as if he felt something was wrong when his body realized it wasn’t making contact with Arin. And now that they’re cuddling again, he passes right back out. Arin can feel his chest rising and falling slowly, hear his faint nasal wheeze on every exhale.

With Dan behind him, Arin’s exhausted brain finally gives up and lets him sleep.

**

“So,” Arin says as he kicks off his sandals and stretches out on a patio chair. “If Dan asks, I was never here. Okay?”

Ross’s face, hidden behind his sunglasses, is unreadable. Arin thinks his lips might be pressed together, but it’s hard to tell, because Ross doesn’t really have any lips to begin with. Finally Ross says, with exasperation, “Are you hiding from him again?”

“Not exactly. But I’m supposed to be at the doctor.” 

“The doctor? For what?”

“Dan wanted me to get a physical.”

“Why? Did you find a weird lump somewhere?”

Arin’s too tired to banter. “No. He wants me to ask about my memory loss, and any, uh, possible brain issues.”

“Memory loss?” Ross sounds confused, but then he snaps his fingers. “Oh, you mean like - like not real memory loss. Just you not remembering stuff you’re supposed to know.”

“Exactly.” Arin slumps. “He said he’s noticed me being different over the past few weeks. He was pretty upset.”

“Shit. Just blame it on stress. Or jet lag.”

“Fuck, dude, I did both. I just don’t think he believed me. You know how he gets, though.” Arin rubs his face. “I told him I felt fine. He still wants me to get checked out.”

“He’s just worried. He loves you, man. I would be freaked out too.”

“Is it that fucking noticeable?”

Ross flips up his sunglasses and gives Arin a calculating look. “I wouldn’t say it’s obvious, but, well. I’ve known you since you were a fuckin’ kid and Dan has lived with you for years.”

“Well, fuck.” Arin sighs. “So then on top of that, I really fucked up today.”

“What did you do?”

“I, uh, well. I walked into the kitchen and saw our cleaning lady, only I didn’t realize it was the cleaning lady, so I asked Dan who she was and then I asked her what she was doing there. That didn’t go over well.”

“Oh.” Ross blinks. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah. Exactly. And while we were recording I sort of forgot that Barry’s still our editor.”

“He’s not supposed to be, where you come from?” Ross is surprised. “Where did he go?”

“I’ll tell you that story later, okay? The point is, now Dan thinks I might have a fucking brain tumour, so I faked making an appointment this morning. I promised him that I would. I hate lying to him but - ”

“Why not just go to the doctor for real so you don’t have to lie?”

“I dunno. What if there’s something physically different about me? Like my charts don’t match up with Other-Arin? I mean, I think I actually have his body. Unless that was part of the wizard’s magic, to make me look like him. I don’t know and I don’t want to risk it. Besides, it’s a pretty easy lie to get away with.”

“Do you look that different?”

“My actual hair has a blond streak in it.” Arin touches his hair where the streak should be. “And I’m fatter than this. When Suzy left, I kinda took comfort in Wendy’s.”

Ross studies him, like he’s trying to picture it. “A blond streak would look cool on you.”

“Thanks,” Arin says dryly. “I’ll keep that in mind. You can pitch that idea to the other Arin when you see him next.”

Speaking that thought aloud makes Arin wince. Ross notices, and his demeanour softens. He gets up from his chair. “You want an iced tea or something? Holly makes this shit with hibiscus and lime, it’s fucking awesome.”

“Sure, dude, thanks.”

The tea is good. Better than Arin would have thought. The mix of sweet and tart reminds him of the taste of Skittles on Dan’s mouth. He drains half the glass in one go.

After a short silence, Ross says, “You don’t want to go home now, do you? To your world, I mean.”

Arin stares into his cup. 

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Arin’s glare would have silenced anyone else, but Ross is made of tougher stuff. He meets Arin’s eyes with a challenging look. The effect is somewhat more comical than Ross probably intends, due to the prominent milk moustache on his upper lip. Arin eventually gives in anyway.

“Yes,” he says shortly. “Yes, I love him, okay? I don’t need a fucking pity party though, so don’t start - ”

Ross holds up one hand. “Wasn’t going to. I just wanted to know.”

“Well, now you do.”

Ross nods. He doesn’t try to offer limp sympathy. He knows Arin better than that. He just says, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Kind of?” Arin sighs in frustration. “There’s nothing to talk about, though. I can’t make myself stop loving him. And I know I can’t stay here forever. At some point, I’m going to have to go home. And I don’t know when. I don’t know how. And I know it’s going to suck. So for now I’m just…going to enjoy what I have, I guess. While I still can.”

“What about your Suzy theory?”

“Oh.” Arin swirls the ice cube in his glass. “I didn’t tell you about that, did I?”

“Tell me what?”

“I saw her.”

Ross’s eyes widen. “You actually - ”

“I didn’t mean to,” Arin says hurriedly. “I just…ran into her at the grocery store.”

“Was it weird?”

“The weird part was how not-weird it was.”

Ross tilts his head like a confused Chihuahua.

Arin elaborates. “She’s doing really well for herself. Said I changed her life. And it didn’t make me feel sad or nostalgic. It’s just nice to know that I had a positive impact on her, even here where we just dated for a few years. Also, she’s pregnant. And…I was happy for her. I wasn’t jealous. ” 

“Do you still miss her? The other her?”

“Fuck, of course I do. But I think maybe…” It’s harder saying it out loud than it is to just think it to himself. “Maybe I’m not in love with her any more.”

“That’s good,” Ross says carefully. “I’m glad you’ve moved on.”

“It doesn’t exactly help with the current situation, though.”

“The Dan situation or the angel situation?”

“Both.”

“Have you tried summoning the angel?” 

“How the fuck do you summon an angel?”

Ross shrugs. “Ask him out loud?”

“I don’t know if I want to.”

“Maybe he can hear you right now.”

“Then he’s a fucking asshole and should show himself so I can punch him in the dick.”

Ross actually looks around, as if expecting an angel to materialize in his backyard. “Maybe being nice would help.”

“On second thought, I don’t want to talk about this. Let’s talk about something else.”

Ross stops talking altogether, which is fair. Their silence isn’t tense. Arin knows Ross is just waiting for Arin to calm down on his own. And eventually, he does.

He says, “Sooner or later, this is all going to be over. Dan’s not an idiot and I won’t be able to fool him forever. I keep fucking up. I didn’t know the name of the song he wrote me. I didn’t know where we had our first kiss. I don’t know how to stop this from blowing up in my face. And I’m in too deep to save myself.” 

Ross just nods. “So what are you going to do?”

Arin’s hand squeezes his cup almost hard enough to crack the glass. “I’m going to take things one day at a time, and see what happens. I guess, in the end, if I don’t get sent back on my own…I think I’ll just have to tell Dan the truth. It’s better than making him think his husband is going crazy. And maybe that will…I don’t know. Trigger the angel to come down and send me back for failing to do what he told me, maybe. Or not.”

“What about the angel wanting you to learn something?”

“I gave up on that. It’s pointless. All I’ve learned here is that I love him. I love him and I can’t have him but I have to go to work every day and sit beside him, pretending like I think of him as a friend.”

Ross stares at Arin for a very long time. “Okay.”

“That’s all you have to say? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I dunno.”

“Well, stop it.”

Ross sips his milk and looks at Arin with his large, guileless eyes. “Why?”

“Because you’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“Where you act like you know something I don’t.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Ross demures. “Just that maybe going home won’t be as bad as you think.”

Arin narrows his eyes. “I don’t get it.”

“I know. So when are you going to tell Dan?”

“I don’t know.”

“How are you going to get him to believe you?”

“I don’t know that, either. Got any suggestions?”

Ross shakes his head. “It’s going to be hard, you know.”

“ _You_ believed me.”

“It was easier to believe you weren’t actually Arin while you were having a breakdown at McDonalds at six AM. Now that you’ve been here a while, even I have a hard time remembering you’re two different people.”

“Fuck.”

“Sorry.”

“No, I appreciate the honesty.” Arin sighs for the hundredth time. “What the fuck am I gonna do?”

“I’ll think about it. Why don’t we grab something to eat and head into the office together?” Ross suggests. “I could actually use your help. I have some storyboards I want to show you.”

“Actually.” Arin blinks and rubs his eyes, straightening up in his chair. “That might be fun. Do you know how fucking epic Gameoverse is? Dude, I fucking devoured the last season on Netflix.”

“You fucking _wrote_ the last season, you knob.” Ross laughs. When Arin stands up, Ross does too. And then he surprises Arin by grabbing him in a fierce hug.

“No matter what happens,” Ross tells him, quietly. “I’ll be there for you. Me, or the other me, it doesn’t matter. We both love you. You don’t have to do any of this alone. If you want me to help you tell him, I will.”

Arin hugs back, hard enough that it must hurt. “I appreciate that,” he says, his voice thicker than he intended. He means it. It’s a nice gesture.

But in the end, Arin knows better. There are some paths he has to walk alone.


	13. The Sound of Winter

“There you are.”

Arin, startled, jerks his head up so fast that his neck cracks. He claps a hand to it, wincing. “Holy shit, you scared me.” 

Dan’s standing in the doorway to Arin’s office, looking contrite. “I’m sorry,” he says, sidling inside and closing the door behind him. “I probably should have knocked.”

“It’s not like I was jacking off or anything. I just didn’t hear the door open.” Arin doesn’t really care. In his own world, most of his friends and employees came and went as they pleased. His Dan wasn’t a frequent visitor - he was too busy - but Arin still vividly remembers the one day he came in to find Dan curled up on the couch, dead asleep. Arin’s entrance woke him, and he smiled up at Arin like a sleepy cat. 

_That was the day I told him that things with Suzy weren’t as good as everyone thought they were_. Arin remembers it well. That had been the day he’d gotten out of bed and realized, for the first time, that they might be broken beyond repair. That Arin couldn’t fix things, not this time.

And Dan had listened, hugged him, told him that he’d be there if Arin needed him. They weren’t just empty words of comfort. When Dan said something, he meant it. For at least a little while, Arin hadn’t felt so alone.

Arin rubs his eyes and says, “You were looking for me?”

“Yeah.” Dan crosses the room and sits on Arin’s office couch. His movements are oddly deliberate, like he’s overacting. Arin can’t read his eyes. “You look tired.”

Arin shrugs. “It’s been a long day already, I guess.”

“You were up pretty early. How’s work going?”

“So-so. I was gonna wrap things up in a few minutes and text you. I thought you were still out for lunch with Brian.”

Dan picks at a fingernail. “I’ve been here for a while. Ross and I were just hanging out in his office.”

There’s something in Dan’s voice that makes Arin’s heart beat a little faster. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. He…he’s acting kind of weird.”

“Is he?”

Dan’s looking into Arin’s eyes. Staring at him. Staring _into_ him. “Yeah. He’s acting kind of like you.”

“What do you mean?”

Dan shrugs again. “You know that feeling you get when you come into a room where people have just been talking about you? Like they’re trying to act normal, but you know they know something you don’t?”

“I…think so, yeah.”

“That’s the kind of feeling I’ve been getting from you and Ross.”

“What?” Arin tries to look baffled. “You think we’re talking about you or something?” It doesn’t feel right, punting the blame to Dan, making Dan feel like the accusation is ridiculous, but Arin doesn’t know what else to do. _When the hell did he get so perceptive?_ Arin wonders. Or had Ross spilled the beans? Ross, for all his intensity and focus when it came to his work, was terrible at keeping calm under scrutiny.

But Arin’s lie succeeds, and Dan falters. “Maybe I’m crazy. I don’t know. Arin, I feel…I feel like I’m unravelling a little bit, here.”

Arin knows that feeling. Knows it too fucking well. “Maybe you’re just working too hard, baby.” Arin pushes in his keyboard tray and stands up from his chair with a bravado he doesn’t really feel. “Shove over. I’m gonna sit with you.”

Dan waits until he sits down to say, “I think maybe I’m just worried that you haven’t told me anything about your doctor’s appointment.” 

And there it is. Another web of lies to be spun. Arin had been avoiding the topic, but of course it was inevitable. “I was going to call you right after,” he lies, “but when I got here, Ross wanted to show me his storyboards. I guess I lost track of time.”

“So? How did it go?”

“With Ross?”

The corners of Dan’s mouth tighten for an instant. “With the doctor, Arin.”

“Fine. It was quick. I had my physical.” Arin’s palms are sweating. He fights the urge to rub them on his thighs. Fuck, he hates tension, especially with Dan.

“And?”

“Not much.” _Think of something._ “I brought up how stressed I got before our weekend trip. We talked about anti-anxiety medications.”

“Did you? Did you get a prescription?”

“I decided I didn’t want to deal with the chance of side effects.” That sounded good, right? 

Dan visibly exhales. “Okay,” he says slowly. “But you…You brought up the memory stuff, right? Are they going to follow up on that? Can they give you like, an MRI?”

“We talked about it, but occasional memory loss isn’t unusual for people who aren’t sleeping properly or dealing with stress in their lives.” 

“But - ”

“They said I would almost definitely be having other symptoms if it was a brain tumour.”

“Headaches?” 

“Yeah. Bad ones. And nausea.” 

“And you haven’t - of course you haven’t.” Dan runs a hand through his hair. He shakes his fluffy head as if to clear it. “Right? You’d tell me if - ”

“I haven‘t had any headaches,” Arin promises, grabbing Dan’s wrist gently to keep him from fidgeting. “No vision problems. No dizziness. No nausea. Unless you count that one day I ate all those onion rings on an empty stomach.”

Dan draws back his lips in an attempt at a smile. “Okay.” Instead of looking relieved, he looks more stressed out than ever. When Arin strokes his arm, he notices how tense Dan’s muscles are.

“What’s wrong, Danny?” 

“I’m still scared. And I don’t know why. I wonder…” Dan hesitates. “Maybe it’s me. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”

The guilt is like a knife twisting right into Arin’s stomach. “Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know. I just…” Dan pauses as if searching for the right words to express his thoughts, but in the end he just shakes his head and sits up straight again. He gathers himself with another little smile that looks almost apologetic. “You know what, it doesn’t matter.”

“To me it does.”

Dan gives a short, sharp shake of his head. “It’s stupid. Just…forget it.”

The guilt surges up again. “It’s not stupid. If it’s bothering you, we should talk about it.” 

“It’s fine,” Dan says, listlessly. “Maybe…maybe I’m tired too. Or maybe I just ate too much.”

“Maybe. I know how you get around sushi.”

Dan’s smile is tremulous. “Yeah.”

Arin can’t stand this. It’s so fucking wrong to let Dan keep believing that his senses are lying to him. Letting Dan believe he’s crazy for seeing all the cracks in Arin’s façade. 

Looking at Dan’s worried eyes, Arin suddenly hates himself.

“You know what you need?” Arin gets to his feet and offers a hand to Dan. After a moment, Dan takes it and lets Arin pull him up.

“What do I need?” 

Arin slides two fingers under Dan’s chin, gently lifting his face up to the light. Dan’s eyelids fall shut as Arin kisses him.

At first Dan doesn’t respond. Then his hand comes up, tentative, to slide its way around Arin’s side. 

“You can talk to me about anything,” Arin murmurs to him. “If you still feel off when we get home tonight - ”

_I’m here whenever you need to talk, Arin. I love you, man._

Arin’s heart beats a little faster and he trips over his words. “We’ll figure everything out,” he makes himself finish. “Okay?”

Dan’s eyes search his. “We always do, don’t we?” 

It sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Always,” Arin smiles through the lie.

**

They don’t talk that night. Dan murmurs something about being tired and refuses Arin’s offer of dinner. Arin reheats leftovers for himself and sits alone at the table, listening to the shower running upstairs.

The entire day had felt wrong. Dan didn’t bring up their conversation. He _looked_ normal - his smiles came easy and he’d been joking around with Barry in the editing bay, just like always - but Arin knows him too goddamn well. Arin keeps catching the little moments in between the smiles, where Dan’s eyes grow distant, like he’s retreating deep into his own head. His posture is a little too stiff, his reassurances too rehearsed.

It’s not like him. 

Arin takes the second shower - he doesn’t mind when Dan uses up all the hot water - and brushes his teeth. He’s grown used to their routine quickly. Normally, he’d come out of the bathroom to find the bedside lamp turned on and Dan sitting up against the headboard, reading a book or playing around on his phone. When he saw Arin, he’d smile and wait until Arin was settled in before cuddling up against him. Whether or not they made love, they’d go to bed in each other’s arms or with one of them spooning the other. But this time Arin rinses his mouth, turns off the bathroom light, and finds the bedroom already dark. Dan is sleeping in a T-shirt and boxers on the far left side of the bed.

Arin gets in on his side, slowly. _He’s not asleep,_ he realizes, but Dan doesn’t move when Arin’s weight makes the bed creak. He doesn’t crack open his eyes or give Arin his usual sleepy smile.

“Hey,” Arin whispers out loud. “Danny?”

“Mmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Of course.” Dan gropes for Arin’s hand and holds it loosely. It feels more dutiful than romantic.

“Are you sure?” Arin presses.

“I’m sure. I’m just really tired.”

“Okay.” Arin closes his eyes, squeezing Dan’s hand. “Okay.”

“Your hand is really sweaty.” Dan pulls his away after a minute.

Arin’s eyes sting. “Yeah, probably. Sorry.”

“S’okay.” 

For once, Dan falls asleep first.

**

 _I feel like I’m unravelling,_ Dan had said.

The words haven’t stopped spinning around in Arin’s mind.

Something is wrong. Something is missing. Dan knows it, but Dan doesn’t know why. Arin knows why, but he doesn’t have the guts or the moral integrity to do anything about it. 

_I have to tell him._

Dan hadn’t been eating very well for the past few days. It was one of his stress tells. Arin had to press him to finish his meals, had to coax him into eating even his favourite chicken tenders. Other people had started to take notice. Barry asked if he’d been sick, and Brian came to Arin’s office to ask if Dan had been feeling overworked after catching up from their impromptu vacation.

“I know he never listens to me,” Brian had said, “because he thinks he has to give a hundred and ten percent all the time. But you can tell him that he doesn’t need to come in on Friday, and we can push the rehearsal back to next week. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

“I can try,” Arin had promised, but Dan was like a brick wall. 

_I’m fine, Arin. I’m just feeling a little weird._

And Arin’s worries dissolved away when Dan cuddled with him that night, his long limbs wrapped around Arin’s body like a sloth clinging to a tree. It was easy to lose himself in this moment, in this fantasy that this was Arin’s life. That this Dan belonged to him, loved him, wanted him. Arin could stay here forever. He could stay here even though the other Arin, the better one, might be out there somewhere, in Arin’s universe, or stuck in some kind of limbo. 

_I’m selfish,_ he realizes for the millionth time as he strokes Dan’s hair. _I’m a selfish fucking bastard. I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve his love or his friendship._

Telling the truth was the right thing to do. But what if Arin was stuck here forever? Dan would leave him if he knew. Could he handle Dan hating him? Could he handle all of his friends here taking Dan’s side, handle being treated like the scumbag he was?

Was it kinder to both of them to keep up the lie?

Arin treats Dan like a king that night, wracked by guilt and the sense that his time was running out. When Dan undresses for bed, Arin gets him to lay facedown and massages his tense back and shoulders, works his way all the way down to Dan’s feet, memorizing every detail, every freckle, every little scar and imperfection. Dan’s deep moans stoke the fire in Arin’s belly, but Arin doesn’t stop to touch himself. Dan’s a puddle on the sheets when Arin’s done, and when he rolls over he says, “You missed a spot.”

 _No,_ Arin wants to say, _you don’t know what you’re asking for, you don’t know who I am._

But he can’t say no, not when Dan’s naked and laid out for him, as hard as Arin is. Arin loves him so fucking much, wants him so much it hurts.

Dan makes a soft noise when Arin takes him in hand and strokes gently. He makes a louder noise when Arin bends down to take him into his mouth. And it’s Dan who takes the next step, whispering a sinful plea that Arin can’t resist.

It’s tender, unhurried. Arin is spooned up against Dan’s back, one arm around Dan’s chest. The angle doesn’t give Arin a lot of room to move, but it’s _good_ , Dan relaxed and open for him, moaning softly as Arin rocks into him. Arin can reach around Dan’s bony hip, take his cock in hand again, stroke it in time with his thrusts. It doesn’t take long for Dan to shudder, spilling warm into Arin’s palm.

It’s Arin’s turn to cling to him, to press his face into Dan’s heaving chest. And it’s easy to pretend that this is just a dream. A wonderful dream, where he’s not hurting or lying to anybody.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing Dan’s hot bare skin. “Love you, love you so much.” As if saying it over and over would make it okay. As if it were an apology, an oath, a promise. An explanation of why Arin would give up everything to live this life.

But no matter how tightly he clutches Dan, Arin can feel him slipping away.

**

It all comes to a head one evening when Dan comes into the bedroom where Arin is sitting up reading in bed and says, “Arin, I’ve been thinking.”

Arin almost drops his phone. “Yeah?” he asks, carefully. 

“I think I need to see a psychiatrist.”

“What? Why?”

“There’s something wrong with me.”

“What do you mean?” 

Dan takes a shaky breath and pushes a hand through his tousled hair. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Maybe you should eat something first,” Arin presses gently, as his stomach takes a sickening swoop. “You didn’t really touch your dinner. I can go downstairs and make you something, and - ”

“No,” Dan says tightly. “I tried. My stomach feels like it’s full of fuckin’ sand or something.”

“Maybe - ”

“Arin, please just let me talk, okay?” Dan rubs his arms. “Let me get this out.” He waits for Arin’s nod, then says, “I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something…wrong. With you, specifically. And it’s not your fault. You’re…you’ve been wonderful to me, as always. But…sometimes it feels like you’re lying to me. Like maybe you’re falling out of love with me and just don’t want to say anything.”

Arin jerks back like he‘s been punched. “Never,” he says thickly, stupidly. “Dan, how could I - how could anyone fall out of love with you?”

“Brian told me I was being stupid,” Dan admits, looking miserable. “But then I talked to Ross.”

 _Fuck._ “What did Ross say?”

“The same thing you did.” Dan looks into Arin’s face. “Except, lately, I’ve been getting the same feeling from him. Like he hates me and just won’t tell me, so he lies to cover it up.”

“Ross doesn’t hate you. Nobody hates you.”

“That’s what I tell myself. Logically, rationally, I know that. Ross is one of my best friends. And you…Arin…I never thought anybody in the world could love me as much as you do. From the day I’ve met you, you’ve shown me nothing but love, compassion, and loyalty. But for some fucking reason, reminding myself of that isn’t fucking working. It can’t be you, so it must be me, and it’s driving me fucking crazy and I can’t eat or sleep, and - and - oh fuck.” Dan has to stop, to gulp air, to hold back what Arin thinks might be a sob. When he speaks again, his voice is thick. “I’m sorry, Arin.”

Every word is like a punch in the gut. Arin swallows hard. “You don’t have to be sorry. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“Then what’s happening to me?” Dan asks in a whisper, pressing a hand against his forehead. “Fuck, Arin, why do I feel this way?” 

Arin’s heart is racing and he feels like he’s about to keel over. “Nothing. Nothing is happening to you. It’s…god, Dan, it’s me, okay? You were right, there is something wrong.”

Dan’s face freezes. “What?”

“I have lied to you.” Where is he going with this? Arin hadn’t fucking rehearsed this, hadn’t planned anything. How the fuck was he supposed to begin? His brain races, searching for something convincing, anything to stave off the inevitable. “I lied to you about going to the doctor. I didn’t go. I went to hang out with Ross.”

Dan stares. “What? You…but I…” He hugs himself, looking lost. “You promised…you looked me in the eye and you promised…”

 _Tell the truth, you fucking coward._ But he backs out at the last second. “I just knew there was nothing wrong. You were getting upset over nothing and I wanted to make you feel better.” 

Lies upon lies upon lies. Arin feels like he’s spinning, way too fast. Sudden nausea grips his stomach.

Dan pulls at his hair so hard Arin winces for him. “Arin, why would you - how could you - ” His voice catches and breaks. “God, Arin, what’s happening to us?”

“Nothing’s happening. It’s fine. We’re fine.”

“No,” Dan grits out, “we’re really fucking not.”

His crumpled face is a mirror image of the other Dan begging Arin not to leave. 

It hits Arin then. Hits him like a fucking semi. He can’t go on like this. It’s spiralling out of control, and if Arin doesn’t put a stop to it now, he’s going to destroy this marriage. He’s going to destroy Dan. 

_You said you were done running away from your problems._

Arin’s stomach twists. He gets up from the bed and reaches for Dan, and Dan clutches him like a lifeline. 

“I need to tell you something,” Arin makes himself say. “We…need to have a serious talk.”

The dread that fills Dan’s face hurts worse than Arin could ever have imagined. Arin’s knees actually buckle but he makes himself stay upright.

“Please don’t tell me that you did go to the doctor and you have cancer, or something,” Dan whispers, shaking. “Oh no, Arin, please...”

“It’s nothing like that. I’m not sick.” 

“Okay.” Dan wipes his face and struggles to compose himself. “Then…then what is it?”

Arin’s already struggling. “I need you to…to be open minded about what I’m going to say, okay?”

Dan gives a jerky nod.

“Do you remember the morning of our anniversary?”

“When you freaked out about not having my gift?”

“Yeah.” 

“Of course I remember.” Dan looks wary. “What does that have to do with - ”

“That was a lie,” Arin blurts before he can finish. “It wasn’t about your gift. I drove to a McDonalds. I didn’t know where I was going, I just drove. Then I called Ross for help.”

“Help with _what?_ How many times have you lied to me?”

Arin has no idea where to go from here. What is he supposed to say - that he freaked out because Dan kissed him? Because Dan was naked in a strange bed, in a strange house, looking at Arin with those sleepy hooded eyes, with a wedding band on his finger that matched the one on Arin’s? 

“Danny,” he says helplessly. “I’m…I’m not who you think I am.” 

“The hell does that mean?”

Arin takes a breath. He has no choice. He needs to come right out with it. “I’m…fuck, I don’t even know how to say it. I’m not from here. I’m not from this - this reality. I’m from…another dimension, I guess.”

Dan‘s face pales. “Arin, if you think this is the time to make stupid jokes, I’m going to - ”

“This isn’t a joke. Fuck, I wish it was.”

“Then what - ”

“Please,” Arin says hoarsely. “Please just let me talk.”

Dan shuts his mouth but glares at Arin, half afraid, half angry.

Arin swallows and tries to find the beginning. 

“Where I come from,” he says, slowly, haltingly. “You’re not my husband. You’re just my friend. We still do Game Grumps together but…that’s it. I ended up being sent here. Against my will. I didn’t know where I was or why I was here. I had never seen this house before. I went upstairs and found you in the bed. You kissed me. Our first kiss. I couldn‘t handle it and I ran.”

“Stop it!” Dan barks suddenly, sounding nothing like himself. “Why are you saying this? Why are you - what are you - Arin - ”

“I’m telling you the truth.”

Dan grabs Arin’s arms in a grip that feels cold as ice. “This isn’t funny. Stop it. Stop it or I’m leaving.”

“I’m not trying to be funny. Dan, I’m not your husband.” The soul-crushing look on Dan’s face is distracting as fuck. _I’m hurting him and he doesn’t know why._ Arin presses on, unable to stand it. “You know,” he says, almost begging. “Dan, you _know_ there’s been something different about me.”

The look on Dan’s face changes, slowly turning from anger and confusion to fear. Arin can see the first spark of realization in his eyes, the way his brain is busily putting pieces of the puzzle together. 

“I - ” Dan starts, then shakes his head. “What do you mean, you come from somewhere else?”

Arin gives up trying to make it sound logical. “I’m from…a different timeline. It’s not that different, except…except we’re not married.” _And you probably hate me._

“How did you get here?” Dan throws out, like it’s some kind of argument. 

“Someone sent me here. Some guy…only not some guy. Some…being, I guess. He said he was going to help. He was there, in our house, when I woke up here. He gave me the gifts I was supposed to give to you. I think the other Arin - your real husband - bought them some time ago.”

“Oh my God,” Dan whispers, searching his face. “You’re telling the truth.”

Arin nods. 

Dan’s face goes from pale to sheet-white. He sways on his feet, and for one awful moment Arin is convinced that he’s about to faint. But when he reaches to steady him, Dan whirls away and stalks over to the wall, giving Arin his back. Arin knows he needs space, so he doesn’t give change. He just stands there, helpless, watching Dan hug his arms around himself as he hides his face.

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” Arin says hoarsely. “I’m sorry for all that I’ve done.”

Dan whips back around to face him. His eyes are huge and terrified.

“Where is he? Where’s the real Arin?” 

It kind of feels like a punch to the gut to hear Dan say _the real Arin_ , like Arin’s nowhere near an adequate replacement. But on second thought, that’s so fucked up. He’s not the real Arin here. He’s a fraud, a disappointment. Other Arin is successful and happy and loved. Arin’s the jackass that walked out on his life and slammed the door behind him. Dan has a right to be sad. Not that it makes it any easier to look at him, all small and hunched, his body language closed.

“I don’t know,” he’s forced to say.

“How will he get back?”

“I don’t know.”

Dan shakes his head, lost and confused. “But what…what am I supposed to do?”

Arin’s heart gives a pang. “I…I don’t know.”

Dan stands stock-still for one long minute, and then actually doubles over like he’s been punched in the stomach.

Arin reaches for him instinctively. Dan _shoves_ his hand away and sobs, “Don’t touch me!”

A sharp pain pierces Arin’s chest as his heart breaks in half. “Dan, it’s still me. I promise. I’m…”

“You told Ross,” Dan croaks. “Ross knew all along, didn’t he?”

Arin’s done with lies. “Yes.”

“He knew and he didn’t tell me. Fucking bastard.” Dan makes a noise that could be a laugh or a sob. “Some kind of friend.”

“I made him promise not to.”

“Promises,” Dan spits back at him, angry now, his emotions whirling. “Well, at least _he_ kept his promise.”

Arin doesn’t really register his own tears until he tastes the salt on his lips. “Dan, I…I’m sorry. I hated lying to you. I just didn’t know what else to do. I was told to play along, and I did.”

“Play along? What does that mean?”

“The…the being that sent me here. He told me. I thought it meant to pretend like I was him. Like I belonged here.”

“Is that what my husband has to do too? Pretend to be you?” Dan gives a wild bark of laughter that sounds nothing like him. “For how long?”

“I don’t know.”

“A month? A year?”

Arin just shrugs, helpless.

“Oh, God.” Dan puts his hands to his head, like it‘s hitting him all over again. “You don’t know. You really don’t know.”

“I’m sorry,” Arin whispers. 

“He could be gone forever.” Dan wraps his arms around his chest. “Oh…oh jesus, Arin…I…I never got to say goodbye. I never…” His eyes well up and overflow with tears. “What am I going to do? I can’t live without him.”

Arin wants to go to him, take him in his arms and tell him that it’s going to be okay. But Dan had told him not to touch him.

“Listen,” Arin says instead, low and gentle. “I know…I know I’m not him. I know I’m not as good. But…I still…you’re still Dan. You’re different too but you’re still Dan. And I’m still something like - your husband. And I do love you. I love you so fucking much. I can be - I can - ”

“No,” Dan chokes. “You can’t.”

God, it hurts to say _I love you_ and have it thrown in his face. Arin wants to hide in the corner and cry. He also wants to take Dan’s face in his hands and cover it in kisses until he gets one of those bright giggly smiles. He wants to tell Dan that everything is going to be okay - he wants to _make_ everything okay. There’s nothing in the world he wants more than to make this man happy.

“Danny,” he says thickly. “I didn’t choose this, okay? I wouldn’t have chosen this. I wouldn’t hurt you for anything. I’ll bring him back for you if I can. But if I can’t - ”

Dan closes his eyes. A tear falls down his cheek. But he’s listening.

“If I can’t,” Arin continues, fighting the urge to cry with him. “I promise, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy. Even if we can’t be…together, like that, anymore. I’ll be your best friend. The best manager you could ever want. You can have the house, everything you want, I don’t care. I’ll do anything for you.”

Dan wobbles a little on his feet, and Arin rushes forward. This time, instead of pushing him away, Dan crumbles against him. He trusts Arin to hold his weight, to keep him safe. Arin can feel his heart beating, feel him trembling, feel the way every part of him aches for comfort. 

“I really will do anything,” Arin murmurs into Dan’s hair. “Anything in the world you want, I’ll give you.”

“I just want to wake up beside my husband and realize this is all a dream,” Dan whispers back. 

“I wish I could make that happen.”

Dan stands up straight, blinking back tears, and clumsily pushes Arin away from him. “And you can’t. I know. What you can do is leave me alone.”

Arin tries very hard to keep standing upright. He makes himself look Dan in the face. “Do you want me to find somewhere else to stay? Like a hotel?”

Dan stares back for a long minute. He blinks back his tears, and his face goes still. “No,” he finally says. “Just…I want to be alone tonight.”

“I can sleep on the couch.”

“Yeah. That…that’ll be fine. I - ” Dan seems to be having trouble keeping his thoughts straight. He seems to be calming down, but Arin isn’t sure that this odd blankness is any better. “I’m going to bed. Please don’t try to come back in the room. I…I just…”

Arin nods. “Yeah. I get it.” 

Dan sits on the huge bed, looking out the window. His eyes are lost and afraid, his mind clearly a million miles away. Slowly, he draws his hand up to his mouth, pressing his lips to the ring his Arin had given him. It looks like he’s not even aware that he’s doing it.

Arin’s ring feels oddly cold on his warm hand. He looks down at it - the twinkling pink diamonds to match Dan’s sapphires, the inscription on the inside pressed against his skin, like a secret he wasn’t meant to hear. He’s wearing someone else’s ring. Arin had never felt like a thief before, but he does now. 

His hand shakes when he grasps the ring and pulls, twisting and turning, until it slides free. Without it, his finger is cold.

“Here,” he says to Dan. “Before I go. You should…you should have this. It doesn‘t feel right for me to wear it.”

Arin gently takes Dan’s hand and presses the pink diamond ring into his palm.

Dan looks at it, curls his fingers around it. For a moment Arin thinks that Dan isn’t going to react at all - but then Dan’s face just crumples, full of wordless agony. He curls in on himself and lets out a single, heart-wrenching sob.

Arin can’t breathe. “Dan - ”

“Go,” Dan gasps. “Just…just go.”

Arin goes.


	14. Eleventh Hour

Arin wakes up to the sound of the back door closing gently. 

He rolls over onto his back. The contents of his stomach slosh around angrily and he almost heaves. It’s early. Just past dawn. The light streaming through the gap in the curtains is soft and grey. The house is silent. 

Arin sits up, fighting the nausea. For a single beautiful second he doesn’t know where he is or why he feels like garbage. And then it clicks.

Fuck. The door - 

His eyes immediately go to the hook by the door where Dan usually hangs his car keys. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees them there, right next to his own. Dan’s upset, but he’s not running away. Not yet, at least. Arin feels like he could handle just about anything except Dan not even being able to look at him.

Arin’s clothes are rumpled and his mouth tastes like shit. His head pounds, slow and thick, with the remnants of the stress headache that had plagued him all night. But none of that really matters when he walks slowly to the window overlooking the backyard and gazes out at the man he loved. 

Dan is sitting at the patio table, staring at the approaching sunrise, his hair outlined in soft rosy pink. He’s in nothing but a T-shirt and thin cotton pyjama pants. As Arin watches, he wraps his arms around himself. _He must be freezing,_ Arin thinks, with a stab of sympathy. But Dan looks much like how Arin feels. Like the physical discomfort is nothing, nothing compared to the ache in his heart.

The instinct to give Dan his space battles with Arin’s need to protect him, to comfort him. There’s a black hoodie in the front hall closet, size XL - other-Arin’s, clearly. The inside is soft and fleecy. It doesn’t feel right to chase after Dan right away, so Arin puts on coffee and goes to the bathroom to try and make himself look a little less like garbage.

By the time Arin sidles through the back door, holding a mug of coffee for Dan and the hoodie, the sun has just barely risen over the highest peak of the hills. The morning is still and quiet, the distant roar of traffic drowned out by the gentle burbling of the pool filter. Arin’s footsteps are loud and intrusive. He knows Dan hears him. But he doesn’t react.

“Hey,” Arin says quietly when Dan doesn’t turn around. “I brought you this.” The mug _clinks_ as he sets it on the table.

“Thanks.” Dan still doesn’t move.

“Are you cold? I brought you a jacket.”

“I guess I’m cold,” Dan says, blankly, like he hadn’t stopped to consider it. 

Arin has to come around the table to offer the hoodie. Dan’s gaze doesn’t move from the horizon beyond. Arin’s afraid to look at his face, to see the coldness he knows is there. He drapes the hoodie over Dan’s lap when Dan doesn’t reach for it.

_Go back inside. He doesn’t want you._

But Arin can’t walk away, the one time he probably should. “Can I sit with you?”

Dan finally cuts his eyes away from the sunrise to look at Arin, and Arin gets a good look at his face for the first time. He’s glad to see Dan looking calm, but there’s a horrible exhaustion in the lines of his eyes and mouth that betrays the fact that he hadn’t slept a wink.

“I guess so,” Dan finally answers. With a deep breath he turns his back to the hills. He sees the steaming mug of coffee and says, “You made coffee for me?”

“I figured you could use it.”

Dan’s laugh is gruesome. It doesn’t touch his eyes or the rest of his face. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I could.”

They sit together in silence. Arin’s trying not to stare, but he can’t help notice how colourless Dan’s face is - like all the sparkle and charisma and everything that makes him - well, makes him _Dan_ \- is just leached away. He looks like an old photograph.

“You should come in and let me make you breakfast,” Arin tries. “Pancakes. Or whatever else you want.” 

Dan raises those dead eyes again. “Are you being nice to me because you feel guilty, or am I just that pathetic?”

“Uh,” Arin winces. “I’m being nice? I just…”

“You don’t know me. And you don’t have to pretend you’re my husband.”

Arin has to take a few deep breaths to absorb the blow. He doesn’t have a lot of experience dealing with an angry Dan, and it throws him off balance. “A good breakfast would help us think,” he offers lamely.

“Think about what?” Dan suddenly spits, hackles rising. “How my husband’s been missing for a month? How he could be gone forever? How you lied to me, over and over? Or maybe how I could barely tell the difference between my husband and a fucking impostor? I’ve spent all night thinking, Arin. I don’t think I need your help.”

Each word is like a knife in Arin’s chest. Suddenly, he’s close to crying.

Arin stands up and says shakily, “I’ll just go inside and make the food. You can eat it if you want. Or not.”

And he thinks he manages to turn around before Dan actually sees the first tear fall.

But maybe he’s wrong. Arin gets almost all the way back to the door before he hears a quiet, “Arin, wait.”

Arin turns.

Dan’s standing up too, clutching Arin’s hoodie against him. He looks stricken. “That was…I didn’t mean to say…”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Dan rubs at his hair. “It’s really not. God, you’re crying.”

“I do that sometimes.”

“I fucking made you cry. Fuck.”

Arin half-shrugs. “I think I deserved it.”

Dan stares at him, helpless, confused. “Why do I still care so much about you?” he asks, almost to himself. “You’re…you’re _wrong_ , you’re not him. But you…the way you kissed me, the way you looked at me, talked to me…”

“I care about you, too.” Arin takes a step forward. “You’re a little different, too, but you’re still Dan. And I kind of care a lot about Dan.”

Dan stares some more. And then he laughs. “Maybe I’ve gone insane.”

“Always possible.”

“Does any sane person believe somebody when they say they’re from another dimension?”

“Probably not.”

Dan laughs again, and there’s no humour in it, just slight madness. Arin really hopes he isn’t breaking Dan mentally. 

“You know what it is?” Dan asks him, half-grinning, his eyes manic. An unpleasant look.

Arin shakes his head.

“I’d believe fucking _anything_ before I’d believe that Arin would ever lie to me like this.”

They both stand frozen, looking at each other, lost.

And then Dan, abruptly, staggers against the patio table and makes a noise like a bark or a sob.

“Dan.” Arin’s rushing toward him, and he’s not sure if that’s smart or not. He catches Dan’s thin body in his arms and presses them together.

Dan clings to him like a spider monkey, his face wet when he buries it into Arin’s shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay,” Arin whispers. He says it over and over. Dan keeps his head down, like he doesn’t want to look at Arin, like he hates himself for finding comfort in this hug. But he doesn’t let go. And neither does Arin.

Arin can feel how cold Dan’s skin is. Somehow, Arin manages to move them both inside where it’s warm. He gets Dan sitting on the couch. He peels Dan away from him and persuades him into laying down.

It takes a while, but Dan’s hysteria fades. Arin goes off to get breakfast started and when he comes back, Dan’s sitting up, not laughing or crying or looking like a corpse. 

He says, “I…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I freaked out.”

“Anyone would.”

“I also made you cry.”

“I deserved it.”

Dan shakes his head, curls bouncing. “No. I…I believe you when you say this wasn’t your fault. That you just got - sent here. I’ve been thinking of the way you looked, that one morning when you got here. You looked - ”

“Like I was gonna shit myself?”

“Yeah. You were terrified. That’s why I think I panicked so hard. I’ve never seen you look like that.”

“To be fair, I’d never seen you naked before.”

Dan’s smile slips out, brief but there, and gone again as quick as it had come. “Thanks a lot.”

“Hey, it was just a lot to adjust to.”

Dan snorts and looks at his feet. When he looks up again, the humour on his face is gone. “Was what we did…was it…cheating?”

Arin feels queasy. “I don’t know. You think it was?”

“You’re him. But you’re not him. But you’re still…god, your _eyes_. You’re just like him. The way you make me laugh. The way you care about me. The way you look at me. But…”

“But what?”

Dan shakes his head. “It’s like when you look at a mirrored image of something, and at first you can’t tell there’s something wrong. But once you see it, you can’t _not_ see it, no matter how hard you try. Was it like that with me?”

“I don’t know.” Arin hadn’t considered it. “I just…think of you as Dan, I guess. Nothing’s really different about you.”

“Except the whole marriage thing.”

“Yeah, but…okay, the sex was new. But the affection, the kindness, that’s just you.” 

“It wasn’t cheating,” Dan decides. “Arin would understand. Besides, I guess…oh, God. That first time, after our anniversary, I guess I kinda - made it hard for you to say no. Not in a creepy way but…at least I hope not…”

“You definitely, _definitely_ didn’t force anything on me.”

“You wanted it.”

Arin nods firmly.

“Anyone in our situation would have done the same thing.”

“That’s what Ross said.”

“You asked Ross?”

“Well fuck, I felt guilty as shit, and who else could I go to?”

“Fucking Ross. I can’t believe he knew.” Dan shakes his head. “I’m not even surprised that he believed you. But I am surprised he managed to keep it from me, honestly.”

“I think he knew you probably wouldn’t have believed him anyway.”

“True. Fuck. I can’t be mad at Ross anyway. He’s like a dog. He eats garbage but you can’t yell at him for it because he doesn’t know any better.” Dan exhales, and then abruptly changes the subject. “Are you making food?”

“Blueberry pancakes. You want some?”

Dan’s nod feels like a tiny victory. He follows Arin into the kitchen. Arin sets out butter and syrup on the table and sits down, his own plate stacked high. He’s ravenous. Dan is much more conservative, only taking two of the smallish pancakes. 

“These are good,” Dan comments. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

Arin’s a stress eater. His mouth is too full to reply. 

Dan laughs. “You look like a fuckin’ hamster, with a mouthful of nuts.”

Arin swallows with great effort, wanting to get his comeback in before the timing was off. “I’ll give _you_ a mouthful of nuts.”

Dan says, primly, “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Arin laughs so hard he almost chokes.

Halfway through the meal, Dan suddenly says, “So back where you come from, you and I are just…friends?”

Arin’s fingers slip on his glass of OJ. “Yeah,” he says, jerkily.

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“I’m not.” Arin stabs a pancake. “We had a fight. Or I started one, with him. Less of a fight and more of a…fuck, it’s a long story.”

“Was this recently?”

“A few days before I came here. I never…” Arin’s hand shakes. He misses his mouth with the fork. Maybe that’s because his eyes are suddenly blurry with tears.

“Arin?”

“I never got a chance to say sorry,” Arin whispers.

“I’m sure he’d forgive you,” Dan answers gently. “I’m a pretty forgiving person.”

“Even you have your limits. You don’t know the story.”

Dan is quiet for a while. He finishes his pancakes, drains his coffee. “Well,” he finally says, “maybe you should tell me.”

**

It’s late afternoon by the time they’re done, and Arin’s voice is hoarse from talking. 

“Wow,” Dan says softly. “It’s so hard to hear about you being so…”

“Me being such a loser?”

“You’re not a loser. But I don’t think I could have ever pictured you being so close to giving up.”

“I thought she was my life. I’d never loved anybody else. I didn’t think I could.”

“Do you think that still?”

“You know I don’t.” Arin doesn’t mean to snap. “Dan, you know…you have to know, I didn’t fucking fake being in love with you all this time.”

Dan blinks a few times, takes a breath. “But is it me you love, or him?”

“I - ” Arin isn’t ready for that question, but Dan’s eyes are steady, pinning him in place. He has to answer. Say something. “You…you are him. Just like you said I’m your Arin.”

“Almost,” Dan says softly. “Almost, but not quite. But maybe I should have asked whether or not you had feelings for him before you came here. Or maybe that’s obvious.”

“I was married.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“Yeah, well, it should.”

“Kinda sounds like denial.”

“I’m pretty fuckin’ good at denial.”

“So you did have feelings for him.”

_Quiet nights, just the two of them, alone in the Grump space, Dan falling asleep with his head in Arin’s lap. Dan cuddling up to him in the hotel room, the feeling of his thigh gently pressing against Arin’s as they played video games together, sitting closer than maybe they should have. Suzy’s questions, her gentle understanding, her reassurances that Arin pushed away, telling her she was wrong, there was nothing, nothing but her…_

“Goddammit.” Arin’s eyes are suddenly wet. “Fucking goddammit.”

“I’m sorry,” Dan says softly, and he looks like he means it. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

“No. No, it’s…I appreciate it. I…I did sometimes have…thoughts…like super fleeting thoughts. But I’d never let myself actually consider it. It was pointless.”

“Because you thought you already found the love of your life.”

“Well, and because - ” Arin stops. “No, yeah, you’re right.”

Dan stares at him for a moment longer, then seems to shrug it off. 

The silence is relentless. Arin’s mind is daring to dream of things forbidden, things impossible.

“Dan, do you think…” Arin stops, hideously unsure of himself, if he even wants to dare go where that sentence will lead him.

“Do I think what?”

Arin struggles to find his courage. As hard as it is, he has to know.

“Do you think that - that my Dan - ever felt the same way?”

Dan doesn’t answer for a while. He stares at his lap, where his hands are neatly folded. “I can’t imagine,” he begins, and Arin’s heart sinks a little, but then he goes on. “If he’s as much…me…as you are Arin, then…I can’t believe there’s nothing between you two.”

“There never has been. He’s straight.”

Dan laughs dryly. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure I told you that once, too.”

“But…”

“You opened my mind,” Dan interrupts. “You came into my life and destroyed all the stupid ideas I had about being anything other than straight. You were…and are…fucking manly as hell, strong and confident, but…soft and feminine, too.”

“So you started thinking that liking guys didn’t make you weak, or any less of a man.”

“Exactly.”

“Are you saying that the other Dan isn’t straight?” Arin demands. “Because he never said…never hinted…”

“I don’t know what he identifies as. I don’t know what I identify as. It’s just - see, it was always just you for me. Still is. I don’t want other guys.” He frowns. “Well, I don’t want any other girls, either.”

“Maybe my Dan is different. You two aren’t exactly subtle. I feel like I would be able to pick up at least some sort of hint.”

“Well, you were married.” Dan’s eyes lift up to Arin’s. “You were married until… pretty recently.”

“This year,” Arin says quietly, but it doesn’t hurt any more to think of it.

“Then…” Dan closes his eyes. “See, he would probably think he didn’t ever have a chance. I would never think to harbour feelings for a married person. I’d feel…awful, if I let myself dwell on it. I’d push it away.” He sounds more sure. “I’d try to move on. To get over it. That’s what he would do.”

“Do you think he really did?”

The question hangs in the air. 

“I don’t know,” Dan confesses. “But I do know that I could never, ever live without him.”

They’re both quiet for a long time. 

Then Arin says, “I’d give anything to see him again. I didn’t understand how much he meant to me…how much I cared about him, until…until I met you.”

“So what do we do?” Dan’s eyes still echo his fear, but he looks up at Arin like he knows Arin will have all the answers. “Where do we go from here? What if you can’t go back?”

“I don’t know,” he says, and gathers Dan into his arms. “We’ll just…try to go on, I guess.”

“The trip,” Dan says suddenly. “To Bora Bora. Your gift…or his gift? I…” He scrubs at his face. “What am I even saying? What does it matter?”

“It wasn’t mine. The angel who sent me here, he gave me the tickets.” Arin hesitates. “We don’t have to go. If it’s weird, I’d rather…I can see if I can get a partial refund or something. But if you want to go, we could still have fun. It’s all up to you.”

“And…what about work? What about the tour? What about - ”

“One day at a time, okay?” Arin squeezes Dan’s hand. “I’ll do my best. I told you. Everything’s going to be okay. It’s still us. You make me feel like I can do anything.”

“Still us,” Dan repeats. He squeezes back. “Even if I…I don’t think I can…be with you, like that, again…I mean…”

“Sexually.”

“Yeah.”

“I can live without sex,” Arin says dismissively. “You’re still my best friend, dude.”

That brings a real smile. “You’re my best friend too, Arin.”

It’s something. It’s enough. 

“Come on,” Arin says. “Let’s get dressed.”

**

Later that evening, Arin goes out for food and almost bumps into the guy standing outside Wendy’s. 

“Sorry, man,” he says, changing his path.

“No problem,” the guy says easily, flipping up his aviators. “Nice to see you again, Arin.”

Arin stops dead in his tracks and turns slowly.

“You,” he gasps.

“Me,” the angel agrees, looking as oddly out-of-place as ever. His black hair is still perfectly parted, perfectly gelled. His skin is smooth and pore-less; his shirt ironed and probably starched. “It’s been a while.”

Arin can’t speak.

“Surprised?” The angel holds out his hands. Arin gets a shock when he looks at the palms. He has no creases, no defining lines at all. No knuckles, either. The angel catches his gaze and just shrugs. “No imitation is perfect. You have no idea how difficult it is to make this form.”

“What are you doing here?” Arin’s dropped his burger. He doesn’t even notice.

“Times up, Arin. You’re finally going home.”

Arin backs up against the wall and tries to find his voice, which has abandoned him for the second time in thirty seconds. “No,” he finally manages.

“No?” One black eyebrow raises. “Whatever happened to ‘make this stop’ and ‘send me back’?”

“You know, you fuck!” That isn’t exactly eloquent, but Arin’s falling apart. “Don’t give me that shit, you know _exactly_ what you did to me!”

“Language, Arin. Not surprising, coming from you. But I expected a little bit of gratitude at least.”

“ _Gratitude?_ ” Arin wants to fucking throttle him.

“Well, of course. You learned a lot, didn’t you? Just like I told you. Everything turned out fine.”

“It’s not fine!” Arin shouts. He’s surprised nobody has stopped to watch his argument with the angel yet. But, in his peripheral vision, he sees that the formerly crowded parking lot is empty.

“What did you learn?” the angel persists. When he sees Arin’s hands ball into fists, he sighs. “Please don’t hit me. It’ll hurt. You, not me. You’ve probably figured out that I’m not made of flesh.”

Arin’s less perturbed than he should be at that. “You don’t get it,” he says tightly. “You - you don’t understand.”

“I understand more than you think.”

“You’ve been watching…”

“Kinda my job. No, I didn’t hang around for the X-rated stuff. But I did watch you discover all the things I’d hoped you would.”

“Gameoverse…”

“It’s a great show, isn’t it?” the angel says reflectively. “The two of you work well together. But that’s not it. That’s important, too, but with or without your help, Ross will be okay. Money and success aren’t everything to him.”

“Dan’s singing…my job, managing him…” Arin’s racking his brain. 

“Getting closer.”

“Suzy,” Arin remembers, though he hadn’t really forgotten. 

“What about her?”

“Stop with the damn teacher voice, man, it’s creepy.”

“My apologies. Do go on. You met Suzy, and…”

“She’s happy here. Happy without me. And she’s…going to be okay, in this world. Without me.”

“Just her?” The angel looks at him keenly.

“No. I…I’ll get over it, too, I think. What she taught me…about myself, about love…I’ll never forget it.”

“She had quite the impact on you. Here, and in all the worlds I know.”

“How many is that?”

The angel only laughs. He reaches a hand out and flutters his fingers. “See that? I just touched at least a thousand different worlds. Different dimensions, all running on this same crazy thing we call time. I couldn’t possibly count even just the ones I know.”

“Suzy and I found each other in more than a thousand universes?” Arin is stunned.

“Mmmhmm.”

“And she always changed me for the better?”

“Always. She’s quite a woman.” The angel smiles. “And you, Arin. You have quite an impact on the people in your life, too.”

“Do I?”

“Don’t give me modesty. You saw what you can accomplish here. You inspire people, Arin. You’re a natural leader. You bring out the best in your friends, wherever you go. You have courage. A lot of it. Courage, and drive, and passion. And it didn’t come just from Suzy.”

“So you sent me here to…what? To remind me that I’m a decent person? To love myself more?”

“Aren’t you missing the obvious lesson?”

Arin just stares.

The angel shakes his head and sighs. “Oh, Arin. Can’t shake the old habit of denial yet. Well, you’ll figure it out. All the pieces are there.”

“Wait,” Arin says weakly. “Wait. Please.”

“Wait for what?”

“I have to see them before I go.”

“Dan and Ross?”

“How did you - god, never mind.” Arin presses his fingers to his temples. “You can read my fucking mind. I forgot about that.”

“ _Read_ is a pretty inaccurate term,” the angel reflects. “Your head isn’t a book. It’s much, much more complicated than that. It’s beautiful, if you could see into it like I can - all those layers.”

“You can see - ”

“Only your surface thoughts. The ones you’re broadcasting. If I wanted to, I could pry.” He flips his sunglasses over in his palm and closes it. The metal glasses crumple up like a dead leaf. When he opens his hand, they’re gone.

That doesn’t even faze Arin anymore. “Please don’t pry.”

“I wouldn’t. Despite what you may think, Arin, I respect you. And I have sort of, I guess you could call an invested interest in your well being.”

“You barely know me.”

The angel grins again. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

Arin breathes in, breathes out. The answer is there, on the tip of his tongue, at the core of his mind. He doesn’t want to admit that the angel is right, though. Not out loud. It seems too much like admitting defeat, and Arin still has too much fight left in him. “If you know me, then you know I can’t…that I need to…”

“Need to what?”

“Don’t.” It comes out hoarsely. “You can read my mind, don’t play dumb. I can’t leave yet. I can’t. I have to take care of him. He’s still upset, he’s lost his husband. He needs me.”

“This Dan will be okay without you, Arin. I promise you that.”

“You can’t know that.” The panic is starting now, squeezing at his chest. “I told him I’d stay. I told him I’d do anything for him. I promised - ”

The angel’s smile is gentle. “Arin, I’m not leaving him alone.”

That should have been obvious. “You’re sending him back,” Arin blurts. “Other Arin. Real Arin.”

“What else would I do with him?”

“Dude, I don’t fuckin’ know. Throw him in some hell dimension where he wakes up naked with Ross?”

“Oh, I couldn’t find that dimension again if I tried. But I remember them being quite a cute couple.”

“What?” Arin splutters. 

The angel breaks out in laughter, and for the first time it sounds like real human laughter. “Your face,” he cackles. “I was kidding, Arin.”

“So not funny.”

“It was pretty funny.” The angel straightens his oddly perfect clothes. “But you’re right, we should be serious. It’s time. You’ll remember this feeling a little weird - ”

“Wait.” Arin fights the surge of fear. “Just wait, please, just let me - ”

The angel’s sigh interrupts him. “They always say _wait_ ,” he murmurs to himself. “Just one more second. One more minute. It’s never enough.”

“Just one favour.” Arin’s voice catches. “Please. I mean it. Just one.”

“What is it?”

“There’s a blue notebook in my room. On my dresser. Ross, he…he knows I wasn’t the right Arin, so…can you give him the notebook? For his show? He might find some inspiration there. Not that he needs it, but…I owe him a lot. It’s the least I can do.”

“Oh, so unselfish,” the angel sighs, smiling. He steeples his fingers. “I can make it so that he finds the notebook.”

“And can you tell him…tell him that I…” Arin’s throat tightens as he tries to think of some way to express his gratitude. 

“That I can’t do,” the angel says gently. “Sorry.” And he sounds like he means it.

“That’s okay.” Arin takes a deep breath. “That’s…thank you.”

“Ooh, there’s the gratitude. Finally. So, are you ready to go?”

“Not really.”

“Surface thoughts, Arin. I can see them. You know you have a lot of work to do, don’t you? And you’re itching to get it done.” He takes the gold watch out of his pocket and spins it by the chain.

 _I never said goodbye,_ Arin thinks, tears coming to his eyes. He thinks of Dan, waiting for Arin to come home with the chicken nuggets he wanted. The idea makes him want to bawl his eyes out, but then he remembers that Arin _will_ be coming home. The right Arin. The one Dan loves, the one Dan married. 

He’ll be okay. Arin can almost picture their reunion. The way Dan’s face would light up, the way he’d throw himself into Arin’s arms, crying, laughing, ecstatic…

And Arin, even as the world fades around him, relaxes.

_Have a little faith. Everything is going to be okay._

Arin’s legs go wobbly. He looks down at his hands. They’re translucent. He can see right through them, to the ground below - which starts to fade as well, dissolving into a silvery mist. And then he has no hands, no arms, he’s nothing - nothing and everything at once.

There’s a sound, a _whoosh_ , like a thousand matches igniting at once. And this time Arin stays conscious as the world reforms itself, piece by piece, around him. The sight is terrible and beautiful to behold - too much so. Arin has to close his eyes. 

When he opens them again, he has a form. He’s in an empty living room, with fast food cartons on the coffee table. When he tilts his head forward, trying to contain his dizziness, the hair that falls in his face is bleached blond on the right side.

He’s home.


	15. Time and Space

Home.

The word had always been comforting to Arin. He loved travelling, loved being able to cross the world as part of his career, loved seeing new places and having new adventures. But through it all, there was a part of him that was only excited for the end of the journey. After a while on tour, or during a week in Japan, or a cross-country visit to his family, Arin’s heart started to ache for familiarity and comfort. The sight of the LA skyline coming into view as the plane started to tilt into its descent made him want to cheer every time. 

Never in his life had Arin been so crushed by coming home.

It doesn’t sink in at first. Nothing feels real. Where was the black-and-white kitchen, the faint background burble of the pool filter from the dining room window, the book he’d left on the wooden coffee table that Dan always squawked about Arin leaving rings on from not using a coaster? Everything feels so wrong, so silent. It even smells different. It doesn’t smell like home. It smells stagnant, empty. Arin runs from room to room, checking behind every door as if he’ll find a portal to take him back. 

In the end, he sinks to his knees, gasping for breath.

Reality is coming down on him like a fucking landslide and it physically _hurts_ , hurts almost as bad as the gnawing emptiness the first night Arin had slept in his house alone after Suzy had gone home to Florida. Arin had almost gotten acclimated to _that_ pain. But this hurts in a whole new way. Suzy was still technically _there_ , a phone call or text away, fully willing to talk to him and be his friend. But Dan -

 _I’ll never see him again_ , Arin thinks to himself with another agonizing stab through his heart. The Dan that he’d kissed, held, made love to - he was gone forever. Arin would never hold him again, would never know his fate, would never know anything about his life. He remembers the excitement on Dan’s face as he leaned over the side of the airboat, gazing at the manatees. The way his fingers felt running through Arin’s hair. The feeling of their mouths pressing together, Dan’s smooth skin against his own under the duvet on their big California king bed. 

The memories shouldn’t belong to him, but they’re all he has. 

That house wasn’t his. That life wasn’t his. And that Dan certainly wasn’t his. Arin has no fucking right to miss any of it. 

He was a thief. Unintentionally, maybe, but a thief all the same. The real Arin - the better Arin - was finally getting back what was rightfully his. 

_And so are you. You did this to yourself. This is what you created._

Arin looks around him, at the empty house he had to call home. The floor needed to be mopped and all the house plants look droopy. There’s a light square on the wall where Arin had taken down the framed picture of himself and Suzy kissing on their wedding day. It’s lonely and ugly and he can hardly stand it. He can hardly stand _himself_. He’s thick and ungainly, stuffed with greasy garbage food, and he can fucking smell his own BO when he raises his arms. 

The hot surge of self-hatred is easier to deal with than the emptiness. It gives him something to focus on, something to feel, something to distract him from wondering what the alternate universe Dan and Arin’s reunion looked like. Arin curls in on himself and tries to breathe, tries to stop it all from hurting so damn bad.

Mochi brushes up against him suddenly and Arin jumps about three feet in the air, letting out a decidedly dinosaur-like shriek. Startled, Mochi bolts, his claws scrabbling frantically across the linoleum in his haste. The sound finally snaps Arin out of his pity party long enough to stop thinking in circles.

Mochi. The cats. Arin’s first thought is, _Jesus fuck, how long has it been since I fed them?_ On the heels of that thought comes _No, if you were actually gone for a month, they’d be dead._ But that didn’t make any sense. Mochi looks fine. Cute and fluffy as ever. What day was it? Did any time pass at all? 

Arin’s phone is in the bathroom. Plugged in, where he’d left it, more than five weeks ago. It’s still not fully charged. The date in the upper corner confirms his suspicion. 

It’s three o’clock PM. 

Which means Arin had never left for Whole Foods, where he had met the angel in the parking lot. 

It was three PM when Arin had stuck his head into the refrigerator to find nothing but an expired yogurt, a water bottle, and old takeout pizza. It was maybe quarter to four when he’d shoved the last two pizza slices into his mouth so he could feel human enough to drive. He remembers the taste vividly. Cardboard and cold cheese.

He opens the fridge, and there’s the pizza box, with two pieces inside.

Arin feels dizzy.

_Did any of it even happen?_

Had that whole timeline simply been - erased?

The thought makes him hold his breath. Maybe there would be no reunion for Other-Dan and Other-Arin. Maybe, tomorrow morning, Dan would be waking up in bed and rolling over with a smile to kiss his husband. _Happy anniversary, baby girl_ …

And Other Arin would get to kiss him back. Dan wouldn’t have to drive to Ross’s house in tears because Arin ran away on the morning of their anniversary. The roses Arin had picked out were probably downstairs, hidden. The tickets to Bora Bora were still in the prettily-wrapped box. Somewhere, Dan had his own gift for Arin hidden. The beautiful white gold watch he’d spent days carefully picking out. He would put it on Arin’s wrist as they gazed at each other in the soft candle light. 

_At least one of us will have a happily ever after._

The golden days he spent with Dan would now exist only in Arin’s memory. They were meaningless. Absolutely meaningless. It was probably for the best. As much as it hurt, as much as Arin wished he could trade places forever…it was for the best. All the times he’d made Dan upset - the ruined anniversary morning - the anguish Dan had endured, not knowing if he’d ever see his husband again… Arin could take some comfort in knowing that Dan wouldn’t have to deal with any of it.

But another part of him remembers the fun they had, the laughter they’d shared, every time he made Dan’s eyes light up. All meaningless now, too. That wasn’t as comforting.

_And the notebook!_

Arin feels a shock of betrayal through his anguish. So that was all for nothing, too. He’d worked so hard on trying to recreate something half as good as the existing Gameoverse storyline, and he was almost proud of some of it. Of course Ross didn’t need his help, but he would have liked to see some of Arin’s ideas. Ross always liked to listen to Arin. He’d take a crappy, half-formed idea and just run with it, holed up in his office for days on end, only to emerge with bloodshot eyes and a triumphant grin, ready to show Arin everything he’d accomplished. It would have been nice to leave Other-Ross with something that could help fire up his endless creativity.

But that’s a pointless thought too. Ross has the other, more successful Arin to help inspire him, now and forever.

Miserable, Arin collapses on the couch. Everything feels pointless. Maybe he was supposed to be inspired by his other self’s success. Maybe he was supposed to suddenly turn his life here around. But he feels nothing. He’d learned nothing. If anything, the brief interlude of happiness only made this life feel even shittier.

A touch of fragrance rouses him. Something tickles his ear.

Arin slaps at it, and something pink falls into his lap.

“What the fuck,” he breathes, staring. “What the _fuck._ ”

It’s a flower. A pink swamp rose. 

Arin picks it up as if it would crumble at his touch, but the petals are as soft as the day it’d been plucked. He still half expects it to wither away in his palm. Arin’s hands shake as he brings the flower to his face and closes his eyes. But instead of the swamp rose’s earthy-sweet scent, Arin gets hit with something stronger - sandalwood and cinnamon and Irish Spring soap, the thicker intimate scent of slightly unwashed hair, maybe an underlying hint of old coffee.

He knows that smell. He knows it just as he knows who picked this flower, and who made sure it followed him here.

 _Did you really think none of it ever happened?_ a voice seems to whisper in his head. A voice that doesn’t belong to him. _I keep my promises._

Behind his closed eyes, Arin sees vivid, colourful flashes. Ross, in his Hollywood Hills mansion, takes the blue notebook from his kitchen table with a confused frown. He opens it to the middle and his eyes go wide, and then he flips back to the beginning and sits down hard in one of the breakfast bar stools. That scene fades, and then he’s back in his old backyard, poolside. It’s early morning and the sky is pink and gold. Arin sees himself, standing by the deck railing, holding Dan in his arms and rubbing his back. Dan’s talking, but the image has no sound. Arin thinks he knows what they’re talking about. And judging from Other-Arin’s face, the tenderness in his eyes, he’s pretty sure he believes every word and doesn’t give a shit about some other version of himself encroaching on his territory. As that image fades, Arin sees the two of them lean in at the same time for a kiss.

He opens his eyes to his own dingy living room, the tears drying tacky on his cheeks.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Arin whispers back, out loud. He waits, but he gets no response.

Regardless, he gets the message.

_You have a lot of work to do, don’t you?_

“Holy fuck,” Arin says, and gets to it.

**

Ross doesn’t live in a mansion. He doesn’t have a Mercedes in his driveway. He doesn’t live a stone’s throw away from Arin in Hollywood Hills. But the Ross that comes to the door is the same Ross that made the cover of _Rolling Stone_ and _Entertainment Weekly_ in the universe Arin had been visiting. The same Ross who had been nominated for four Emmy’s and kept a bunch of trophies in his closet because he didn’t want to be show-offy. The Ross that was there for Arin through thick and thin, across time and space, no matter how busy he was or what universe he was from.

There’s a crease on Ross’s forehead and his eyes are narrowed. Arin winces, thinking, _Fuck, he’s still mad_. And then he remembers that it had only been a couple of days since he’d called Ross a nagging bitch and more than implied that he was a talentless, lazy mooch. Then he feels the heat rush to his face and he makes himself say it before Ross can get a word out.

“I’m sorry.” That was a good beginning. Arin says it again, because holy fuck, Ross needs to hear it a hundred times. “I’m really fucking sorry.”

“Yeah?” Ross’s mouth twists. “Well, good. You should be.”

Arin’s stomach goes cold. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Ross look this pissed off. But when he really looks, he sees past the mask of anger and senses the deep hurt and betrayal beneath. But that’s not any better. If anyone else had talked shit about Ross’s project, Ross would either ignore them or get rightfully mad. But hearing it from his supposed best friend had cut him deep.

“It shouldn’t have taken me this long to come see you,” Arin admits. “I was afraid you would never want to see me again.”

“You could have called. Where have you been? Sitting at home, drinking your face off?”

“Yeah, I deserve that.” Arin looks past Ross, avoiding his accusing stare. “I’ve been…busy. Thinking about how to fix this mess.”

“I don’t know if you can. You fucked up bad, Arin.”

“I know. Jesus, I know. Ross, listen to me - ”

“I don’t think you know anything, actually. I think you’re so caught up in your big selfish pity party that you don’t even realize what you’re doing to your friends, your company, your - ”

“Listen, okay?” Arin fights to keep the hysteria out of his voice. What if he messed up this one chance to make things right? “You have every right to never want to talk to me again, but just - hear me out.”

Ross senses his panic and his gaze turns from heated to confused. “Did something happen to you? You look really fucked up. Like you don’t look like yourself at all.”

Arin means to lie. He doesn’t want to, but he has no choice. He opens his mouth to say, _Not really, just feeling like shit about what I did to you._ What comes out instead is a crazy bark of laughter that drains the air from his lungs and leaves him wheezing.

“I don’t look like myself,” he repeats, and that makes him laugh all over again.

“Arin?” Now Ross is alarmed. “Are you okay? If you were drinking and driving, I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Not drunk,” Arin manages. “Just, pretty fucking far from okay. I’m fucked up, Ross. I’m absolutely fucked up and I don’t know what to do. But I’m here. I’m here and I want to make things right.”

Ross swipes a hand through his hair and plants a hand on his hip, studying Arin for a long moment. Then he sighs. “Come inside. Sit the fuck down. I’m going to get you a glass of water.”

Arin’s tempted to ask for something stronger, even though he’s pretty sure Ross will yell at him if he does. He hasn’t had a drink in weeks - never felt a single urge to have one, when he was with Dan - but the body he’s in doesn’t feel like his own. It scares him to actually feel a faint craving for booze. But when Ross sets a glass of water in front of him, he chugs it like he’s dying of thirst, and it does seem to help slow his whirling thoughts and rid him of the urge to drown himself in oblivion.

“Better?” 

“Yeah. Somewhat.” 

Ross, impatient as ever, doesn’t give Arin a lot of time to collect himself. He sits and stares at Arin with his bright inquisitive eyes for half a second and then says bluntly, “So you look like shit.”

“I feel like shit.”

Ross taps his fingers on the table. “Yeah. Well. I figured you would. Even if you didn’t feel bad about what you did to me, I knew you couldn’t possibly have your head far enough up your ass to ignore what else you did.”

“What do you mean?” Arin asks, even though he already knows.

“Dan came by,” Ross says simply. “Two days ago.”

Arin clutches his stomach until the nausea passes. “He told you what happened.”

“Yeah. He did.”

“And, um…how did that go?”

“You ever see Dan sad?” Ross asks abruptly. 

_Yes._ “Not really.”

“It’s like the worst thing in the world. I didn’t even know what to do. He ended up sleeping here. He looked almost as fucked up as you do right now. I didn’t want him trying to drive home. Brian called three times to check on him.”

Arin’s stomach twists. “He was pretty upset?”

“What the fuck do you think?” 

Arin remembers that crumpled face, those big pleading eyes. “Yeah. I guess he was.”

“He has a good reason to be. What the fuck did you think you were doing? Telling Dan out of nowhere that you want to quit Grumps right after backing out of all the Starbomb stuff? Jesus, Arin. You really handled that well.”

“I was just trying to back out before I took everyone down with me.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t get to do that.”

Ross can be blunt with him in a way nobody else would dare to. And he doesn’t flinch when Arin fights back. And it’s impossible not to. Something about Ross just drives Arin crazy but it never makes him stop loving him.

“It’s my company,” Arin retorts, without any fire. “I can do whatever I want.”

“You think you can just ruin lives because you feel sad? You fucking know better than that, Arin.”

Arin does. Suddenly he can’t look Ross in the face. “Nothing would be ruined.”

“Are you an idiot?”

 _Yes._ “Dan could be in charge. Or Brian.”

“Don’t be stupid. Neither of them have the leadership skills that you do. Neither of them have your business skills either.”

The unexpected compliment leaves Arin feeling chastened and he can’t think of a response.

“And what about me?” Ross demands. “What happens to my career if you leave?”

That catches Arin by surprise, too. “You’re the one I’d be least worried about,” he says slowly. “I think…I think you’d be the best off. Because you do work hard, and you’re one of the most creative people I’ve ever met in my life. And maybe sometimes I wonder if I’m holding you back too by making you stick with Grumps. No, fuck that, I _know_ I’m holding you back.”

“Arin,” Ross says, exasperated. “This again? We had this talk. You did let me back out of the gameplay stuff. We worked things out. If you left, it’d be worse. I‘d probably have to go back to Steam Train or something, and I don’t want to do that. I would, for the channel. For everyone you employ.”

“You wouldn’t have to. And you have your own stuff going on. Gameoverse. Your own dream.”

“Yeah, and you’re the one that voices all my shitty characters, aren’t you? Or are you backing out of that, too? Besides, I thought you said all I do is drink and fuck around at work.”

 _Ouch._ Arin glances at Ross’s face and is startled to see that his eyes are wet. Arin sucks air through his teeth. He’s glad Ross is being so direct, but - jesus, it sucks to see firsthand how deeply his comments hurt Ross. Ross is not the crying type. If he’s tearing up days after the fact, he’s definitely more upset than Arin’s ever seen him. Guilt eats at his stomach and he has to gather himself before he can speak.

“First of all, that was a stupid fucking lie, and we both know it.” Arin wipes his mouth with his sleeve. “I was just trying to hurt you so I said some stupid shit. I was just hurting so bad myself that I guess I had to lash out. And I felt awful about it but I couldn’t get my shit together long enough to call you or visit you or…or do anything to make it better, really. I guess I finally got my head out of my ass, though. I’m here now. And I’d say sorry a hundred times but it still wouldn’t be enough.”

Some of the anger fades from Ross’s eyes. “Yeah, fair. But still…Arin, sometimes even shitty things come from a place of truth. If you have any doubts about being involved…or if you really think I should focus on something else…”

“No!” Arin half-shouts, and Ross jerks back in surprise. “What the fuck, are you crazy?”

“Well, I - ”

“No. Listen to me. Gameoverse has the potential to be fucking huge. It’s _going_ to be huge. Bigger than you think. Primetime TV and Emmy awards big. With me or without me. It’s all you.”

“That’s - ” Ross blinks. “Okay, fine, you’ve apologized hard enough. You can stop with all this over-the-top shit.”

“I’m not being dramatic. One day it’s going to take off, and you’re gonna be like. Claustrophobically famous. Driving a fancy car and rubbing shoulders with big-shot celebrities.”

Ross snorts. “Shut up.”

“I’m dead fucking serious. And I want to be a part of it all. If you’ll let me.” Arin takes a breath. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I hope you can forgive me. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking you for a second chance. I promise I’ll never say anything to hurt you again.”

A long moment of silence passes. Ross’s eyes never leave Arin’s. Time seems to stretch, making every second feel like a minute, and Arin starts to feel the beginning of a creeping dread. But then, finally, Ross nods and says, “Okay.” 

Arin lets out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. “Thank you.”

“Wait.” Ross crosses his arms. “I do have conditions.”

“Fucking name them. I’ll do anything.”

“Fine. There’s just one condition, really.” Ross pokes a finger into Arin’s chest. “You can’t leave Game Grumps. You can’t even _think_ about leaving Game Grumps.”

Arin just shrugs. “Yeah, okay.”

Ross blinks. “And you can’t leave Starbomb. Cancel the tour, sure. The fans will understand. You’re going through shit. But the new album is half done, and it’s _good_ , and you can’t just let Brian and Dan down like this. You’re my best friend, but if you make Dan cry again, I’m gonna make _you_ cry.”

“Fine.”

“What? That’s it?” 

“Well, I mean - I kinda figured…” 

Ross tilts his head. “You don’t even want to leave, do you? What the fuck, did you cause all this shit for nothing?”

Arin shrugs helplessly. “No. I just…I had a change of heart. A lot of stuff happened since that whole fiasco.”

“It’s been like, two days. What do you mean, something happened? You didn’t even leave your house.”

“How do you know that?”

Ross rolls his eyes. “Dan made me drive by each morning to make sure you didn’t like, put a For Sale sign up in the yard. Your car never moved. So what do you mean, something happened? Did you find Jesus?”

“You’d never believe me.”

“Try me.”

“Um.” Arin looks at his watch. His plain black watch. He misses the warm sparkle of the white gold. Not that he’s ever cared that much about how nice his accessories are - it had just been nice to look at it and think about Dan, taking hours poring over the displays, being cajoled by salespeople, trying to choose something he thought Arin would love. “Maybe another time? It’s a long story. And I really hope I can tell it to you sometime. But I have to take care of something else today.”

“You mean Dan.”

Arin nods. “He might still be at the office.”

“He’s not. He’s at home.”

“How do you know that?”

“He hasn’t shown up to work since you left. I don’t think he’s left the house, either.”

Arin stares. “ _Dan_ didn’t show up? You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

“But you said you were talking to him, right? Like he’s not - you know he’s not - ” Arin’s suddenly seized with a terrible thought that almost makes him double over. Dan tends to forget about caring for himself when he’s upset. What if his stomach troubles overwhelmed him, made him collapse somewhere, or, jesus fucking Christ, what if - 

Ross interrupts his racing thoughts. “He’s not dead, Arin. We’ve been texting. And Brian’s been checking in on him to make sure he’s eating. He was just there this morning.”

“That’s good.” Arin breathes deep. “Good. And what about you? How are things at the office? Does everyone know…what I said?” He can’t remember who was all there to witness his meltdown. Maybe he doesn’t want to remember the shocked faces. The shame is too much.

“Well, you weren’t exactly quiet. And something like that doesn’t exactly stay a secret. Literally everyone knows.”

Arin winces. He senses the bad news coming. “And…”

“It’s bad, Arin. Really bad. Without you, everything falls apart.”

“Everything?”

“The whole office is fucked. Nobody knows what’s going on. Nobody is doing anything. Nothing got uploaded for three days. Everyone’s worried. Brian and Brent have been trying to handle things, but it’s not really looking good. Some people are updating their resumes and starting to look for other jobs, just in case. Matt and Ryan are mostly just arguing over whether or not you were serious, and it’s gotten to the point where they’re mad at each other. The general consensus is that if you go, almost everyone else does too. Some people are already getting prepared.”

Arin is horrified. “What the fuck. Okay, holy shit, I need to call - I need to - I - ”

Ross grabs one of Arin’s flailing arms. “You need to go see Dan is what you need to do.”

“But - ”

“I’ll go to the office and tell everyone that you just needed a few days to think about things. That you never meant you were wanting to leave for good. I’ll talk to Brent, and Brian if he’s around. If not, I’ll call him. I’ll make sure everyone knows, okay? They’ll want to hear it from you eventually, but for now they’ll take my word.”

“That’s…thank you.” Arin suddenly wants to cry. Before Ross can let go of his arm, he leans in and crushes Ross’s smaller body against his own in a fierce hug. 

Ross isn’t usually one to be physically affectionate with Arin, so it’s surprising when Ross squeezes him even harder. He rubs Arin’s back in comforting circles and Arin feels some of his tension melting away. This is Ross, _his_ Ross, his best friend, and he’s not going anywhere. 

“I missed you, dude,” Arin breathes. “Fuck, I missed you.”

“It’s only been a couple of days.”

“Feels like longer.” Arin laughs, but it sounds more like a sigh. “Feels like fucking weeks, man.”

Ross doesn’t question that. Arin’s glad. He’s burning to tell the story - despite telling Ross that he’d never believe him, Arin has a feeling that he will, just like Other-Ross did - but this isn’t the time or place. For now it’s enough to just hug his old friend and remember that life here wasn’t over. There’s still hope. Maybe it won’t ever be as good as what he had in the other world, but he has Ross’s friendship, and maybe he can even salvage Dan’s, if he works for it.

Eventually Ross pushes him away and says, “Arin.”

“Yeah.”

“You gotta go.”

“I know. And if - if he doesn’t forgive me, do you think maybe…you could come stay with me for a bit? I think I’ll need somebody there with me, just to…you know.”

“You’re an idiot,” Ross tells him, but he’s smiling. “You’re an idiot but I love you anyway. It’s _Dan_. He’d forgive you for anything.”

That’s another surprise. Ross doesn’t toss the L word around too much with his friends. “I love you too. Thanks for putting up with my shit.”

“You’d do the same for me.” 

Ross licks his hand and reaches to Arin’s head, smoothing back his hair.

“Oh, fucking gross,” Arin whines. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you look decent.” Ross studies him critically. “Not bad. You need to shave, but I guess you don’t have time.”

“I literally just showered before coming here. And why does that matter?”

“God,” Ross says exasperatedly. “You really are an idiot.”

Arin’s cheeks heat up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Like hell you don’t.” Ross rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Tomorrow,” Arin agrees. 

“Now get out of here and go make things right.”

Arin looks into Ross’s eyes. Ross is far smarter than most people think he is when they first meet him. And his gaze pierces.

He knows. Maybe he’s always known.

Arin quells the little voice in his head that whispers _what if?_ He’s not going to let himself think that he could ever have - but no. He refuses to even let the thought cross his mind.

Fighting the butterflies in his stomach, Arin hugs Ross one last time and races back out to his car.


	16. Sunrise

The drive to Dan’s house was maybe twenty minutes long, but to Arin, a lifetime passes during the ride. The winter sun descends for the mountains in a fiery blaze as Arin practices all the things he wanted to say, all the things Dan should have heard a long time ago. With Ross back on his side, he feels almost invincible. Ross’s righteous anger had been bracing, and his unwavering loyalty put some steel back into Arin’s spine. 

But when Dan opens the door at the sound of Arin’s knock, all confidence flies out the fucking window. Dan obviously wasn’t expecting company, and it’s clear that Arin’s surprise visit is not entirely welcomed. 

Arin swallows. He tries to smile. “Hey, Dan,” he says, like it’s totally normal for Arin to be here unannounced. After living with Dan for so long it feels weird to visit him like a neighbour. Like Arin doesn’t belong here.

“Arin,” Dan says tightly, and oh, even in that tone, Arin is relieved to hear his voice again. “What are you doing here?”

“I…” Arin’s mind goes blank. All the pretty words he’d thought up and practiced out loud are gone.

Dan’s wearing an open button down shirt and pyjama pants slung low on his hips. His hair is in a low messy bun with flyaways falling over his forehead and curling around his neck. It’s like a new advent of hot and Arin’s fucking blindsided by it. Dan also looks rumpled and sleepy, maybe like he’d been dozing on the couch when the doorbell rang. The longer Arin looks - and fuck, he has to stop staring at some point or it’ll be weird - the more he sees the tension and exhaustion in the lines of Dan’s face. Like maybe he hadn’t been sleeping very well, like when his stomach was troubling him.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Arin finishes weakly after tearing his eyes away from Dan’s open shirt. 

“I have a phone, don’t I?”

“Sometimes it’s better to talk in person.”

“Yeah,” Dan says dryly. “Yeah, you know what, sometimes it is. That didn’t stop you last week.”

“I had to see you.” Arin can’t convey the urgency of it, not without sounding crazy. “I missed you so much.”

“You’ve missed me?” Dan’s jaw works. “I never left. I’m not the one who walked out on you.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Dan. I’m so fucking sorry.” Arin’s voice cracks. “I never meant - ”

“I fucking chased you,” Dan grits out. It’s not like him to interrupt. “I _begged_ you not to go.”

Arin has to fight the instinctive urge to fold Dan into his arms, kiss his eyebrow in the way he knew would make him smile, to slide his hand beneath Dan’s chin to lift up his face for a kiss. The memories of his time in the other universe are rushing back all at once and it nearly chokes him to hold them back. 

“Danny, please, just - ”

Dan’s not finished. Oh, he’s far from finished. “You told me you didn’t want to be a part of the best thing that ever happened to me. That you were giving up on our whole career. Everything we ever worked for. You yelled at Ross, you yelled at Brian, and you threw your keys in my face and walked away - and then you ignored me for _days_ , as I called you over and over. And now you show up here after not so much as a _fucking_ text message, and you expect me to - to - ” Dan’s voice chokes off. He stares at Arin with wild eyes, lost and confused as he says, “What do you want from me now?”

It dawns on Arin then that he hasn’t repented his selfishness at all. God, why hadn’t he realized that surprising Dan like this was a bad idea? He should have taken it slow, sent Dan a text asking him if he’d like to meet up. Arin had been in such a rush to fix his own mess that he hadn’t considered that maybe Dan would need time to heal. 

Arin flushes with shame. “I don’t want anything from you. I just want you to know that I’m sorry.” 

He thinks he sees the apology touch Dan’s eyes for half a second, but then the moment is gone. Dan folds his arms across his chest. “You’re sorry? That’s it?” 

“I’m really, _really_ sorry.” That was fucking lame, but Arin can’t think. His heart is pounding and his head is a mess of jumbled thoughts and feelings.

“You think being really sorry fixes anything?” There’s an edge to Dan’s voice. It’s the closest Dan will come to shouting without being deliberately pushed into it.

“I know it doesn’t fix anything,“ Arin says miserably, hating himself for making Dan so upset. “But I wanted you to know how I feel. That I know I hurt you and everyone else, and I regret it.”

“You just figured that out now? Or have you been so busy that you just didn’t bother to come apologize?”

Snark isn’t very characteristic of Dan either. Arin’s not sure he’s ever had Dan berate him like this. His words hit Arin like whips and leave him smarting. “I just want us to go back to how we were before. I didn’t mean any of it. I was fucked up, Dan, and I did a lot of dumb shit.”

“You want me to just forget how you treated me?”

“No. I guess it’s too late for that.”

“You want me to tell you that it’s all okay now? That we’re okay? Because I can’t do that, either. Telling me that you’re shutting down the channel isn’t just a little mistake, Arin. You can’t pass it off like one.”

“I never said I was shutting it down. I just didn’t want to ruin it for everyone else.”

Dan makes a noise that he might have intended to be a laugh. “Don’t give me that shit. You said you weren’t sure if Game Grumps was going to go on too much longer.”

“Yeah. I meant the way it was. With us. With me. That doesn’t mean the channel just gets deleted.” 

“Yes it does!” Dan’s composure cracks and he finally shouts. “There is no Game Grumps without you, Arin!” 

“Look, it was a dumb thing to do. Especially right at the office in front of everyone. I’m an idiot. I get it, okay?”

“No. I don’t think you do get it, Arin. How many fucking times do you have to be told that it’s okay to take a break? That we understand that you need some time off? You shouldn’t have even been at work in the first place if you felt that bad.”

“I didn’t want to let you all down.” Fuck, now he was going to cry. Arin grits his teeth and tries to keep the tears back. “You don’t get it either, you know? I’m the boss. I’m supposed to be in charge. I’m supposed to know what I’m doing.”

“It’s okay to need help sometimes, Arin! You of all people should know that! How many times have you said that to me, or the fans? Fuck, how many times have you been there for me when I’ve flaked out or needed you?”

“That’s different.”

“How is it different!?”

“It just…it just is, alright?” 

Dan tugs at his messy hair with both hands, frustrated. “You’re full of shit! It’s the same thing and you know it. Did you actually think we would be better off without you?”

“Yes!” Arin doesn’t mean to shout, but it pulls Dan up short. 

Arin takes several deep breaths to calm down. This is _Dan_ \- this is everything - he can’t fuck it up. “I thought I had failed her,” he says. “I thought that meant that _I_ was a failure. And I was scared of bringing that destruction to the show. To you, to Ross, to Brian, to everyone involved. I didn’t want to fail you, too. On my own, I thought I was nothing, and it scared me. It really fuckin’ scared me.”

Dan goes silent. He looks at Arin for a long time with a look on his face that Arin can’t decipher. Then he says, “What changed?”

“What?”

“Arin, you’re talking like you’ve had years to think about this. You’re saying that you missed me, acting like you had some big revelation, or something. It’s only been a couple of days. So you’re just - suddenly, _poof_ , you’re just the same old Arin again? Your heart was broken and your life was ruined and you thought you were useless, but half a week later you’re sorry and we should just move past it? What exactly changed your mind?”

Arin can only shrug. “I talked to Suzy.” That wasn’t a lie. He had talked to Suzy. The pregnant model who had broken up with teenage Arin in another dimension.

“That’s good,” Dan says slowly. “She talked some sense into you?”

“Yeah. She…we both had a huge impact on each other, you know? And even though it’s over, it doesn’t mean either of us fucked up. We’re still friends, and - and we can both love other people, someday. The lessons she taught me aren’t going anywhere.” That all seems incredibly insufficient to describe what Arin had learned, but he’s careful not to go too over-the-top. “She got me thinking, and I guess it helped me figure out some other shit, too.”

“Like what?”

Arin doesn’t know what else to do but throw all his cards on the table. “She still cares about me. She’s still my friend. Nothing can change that. And that made me remember that I have other people in my life that I still love and care about more than anything.” 

Dan’s eyes lift slowly to meet his, questioning.

“Including you. Fuck, especially you, Dan. I can’t even begin to tell you how important you are to me. You’ve been the best business partner I could ever ask for, one of the most hardworking people I know. You’re just - this talented ball of creativity and energy, and it’s so fucking inspiring. And more importantly, you’re funny, and you’re caring, and you’re always there for me when I need you. I treated you like shit and you still just wanted to help and I threw it all back in your face. Running out on you was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I can’t take it back now, but I really am sorry. I’m sorry, and I - I love you.”

Some of Dan’s anger ebbs. He doesn’t say it back, but his mask slips and Arin sees the real Dan underneath, raw and starved and longing.

Fuck, he’s beautiful, the kind of rugged beauty Arin associated with remote and wild places. Places too sacred for Arin to step. This oddly poetic thought seems almost silly, but Arin can’t seem to shake the metaphor. Something about Dan being unreachable, unobtainable, so far above Arin that there was never any point in dwelling on the thoughts that crept in the corners of his brain. An old guilt sears him, and Arin’s thumb curls up to stroke a sterling silver promise that was no longer there.

Dan says, “You hurt a lot of people, Arin.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I sure as shit did.” Arin already knew that, after Ross had told him of the chaos at the office. Hearing it from Dan fucking sucked. 

“Everyone is scared about losing their jobs. I mean, I know it‘s your company and…I guess, technically, you can do what you want with it, but…they deserve more than that, you know? They‘ve worked so hard for us.”

“I know.” 

“And Ross. How could you say those things to him? How could you tear him down like that? If it were anyone else but you, he wouldn’t care what people said about his work. He’d probably just laugh. But coming from you - the one person he really looks up to - ” Dan shakes his head. 

“I wasn’t thinking straight,” Arin says, lamely. “I talked to Ross already, he - ”

“I’m not sure you were thinking at all. Jesus, Arin, he trusted you. _I_ trusted you.” Dan hesitates. He doesn’t sound angry anymore, but Arin isn’t sure this odd blank calm is any better. “I…love you too, Arin, you know that, but…”

The _but_ feels like being kicked in the stomach. He could handle Dan’s anger, maybe even his tears. But he could not handle this.

_I trusted you._

Guilt crawls up his throat and Arin can’t speak, can barely breathe. His eyes are burning, and oh fuck, he’s going to cry, and he doesn’t want to fucking cry. He doesn’t want Dan to forgive him out of pity.

“Arin?” Dan’s entire demeanour changes. He takes a step forward. Arin looks up at him and sees Dan’s face in triplicate through a glaze of tears. “Oh, fuck, Arin, I…”

“Look,” Arin manages. “I should go. This can wait. I can talk to you later. You’re right about everything. I’m a horrible person. I just wanted you to know that I…I’m ready to talk, if you ever want to.”

“Arin…”

“I love you, okay?” Arin had to get that out a second time, just to make sure Dan never forgets. “I’ll call you later.”

He turns to leave.

“Arin, wait.” Dan’s voice is tinged with desperation. “Don’t go. Not like this.”

Arin can’t refuse him. Not again. He slowly turns back around. 

“You’re crying,” Dan says, bemused. “I made you cry.” He presses his hands to his temples. “What’s wrong with me? You’re trying to apologize and I made you cry.”

And now Dan’s blaming himself, like always. Arin’s not making anything better. He’s making this worse. He’s making Dan feel guilty and he can’t even reach out and hold him or stroke his hair or do any of the things he knows will comfort him. 

“I hurt you,” Arin reminds him. “Fuck, you should be mad at me. Even if I never meant to, I hurt you. Betrayed you.”

“You never meant to,” Dan repeats slowly. He runs his fingers through his hair roughly, pulling out the elastic, combing curls to frizz. His hair tumbles over his shoulders and Arin longs to run his own hands through it. It’s torture, watching Dan’s expressive face run the gamut of emotions from anger to self-doubt to sadness. “I called you, you know. Over and over. I was so scared. When you didn’t call back I - I thought everything was over. My job. The show - the best thing in my life. And you. My best friend...”

“Game Grumps is the best thing in your life? Not NSP?” Arin blinks. “And I’m your best friend? Not your Triforce buddies or - ”

“I’m only able to keep doing NSP because of the show. Because of you. Arin, do you really not know how much you mean to me?”

He used the present tense. Not the past tense. “Dan, fuck.” Arin acts before he can think. His heart is pounding out of his fucking chest. He steps forward and wraps Dan in a hug.

“Arin - ” Dan stiffens for a moment and Arin’s stomach drops. But when Arin starts to pull away, afraid he’s crossed a line, Dan grabs for him, pulling them back together.

It’s like the entire world shifts and suddenly Arin’s himself again. His throat clears and his eyes dry up and his racing heart slows. For one beautiful moment, he can close his eyes and really believe that everything would be okay. 

“Dan,” he murmurs, daring to stroke Dan’s back in slow circles. “I’m sorry for not calling you back. I was in a bad mental place. I’m sorry for not getting out of it sooner. I wish this never fuckin’ happened. I could take everything back.”

“You can’t.”

“I know.” Arin squeezes him a little tighter. “But I could try to make it better. I’ll do anything. You just fucking name it and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything to fix this. To fix _us._ ”

“I just don’t want you leave the show,” Dan croaks, muffled against Arin’s jacket. “Please don’t leave, Ar’. This is my life. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. What the hell would I do without you?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Dan pulls back, keeping his arms around Arin but lifting his head to look at his face. They’re inches apart, and Arin’s heart stutters. His gaze goes to Dan’s mouth but he quickly remembers himself and looks back up into Dan’s eyes.

Dan’s pupils dilate, turning his warm eyes dark. Arin thinks he sees something flicker in their depths.

“You’re not going to quit?” Dan asks, almost in a whisper, like he’s afraid to take it seriously. “You’re not just saying that?”

“I don’t want to quit.” Arin’s dead sure about that. “I thought you knew that already. I said it was a dumb thing to do.”

“I wasn’t sure if you just meant the way you quit, or…or, I don’t know, Arin.” Dan inhales deeply. “What about Starbomb?”

“I still don’t know about the tour. I - need time to think.” _Fuck, sleeping two feet away from him on a tour bus, sharing a hotel room._ “But I’m not leaving Starbomb either. Not unless you and Brian want me to after what I did.”

Dan stares at him, and then crushes Arin in another hug.

“You fucking idiot,” Dan mumbles, the harsh words at odds with the tender way he slides one hand up the back of Arin’s neck. He runs his fingers through Arin’s hair, cups the back of his head, pulls Arin’s face into the crook of his shoulder. “How can you be so fuckin’ smart and so dumb at the same time?”

Arin doesn’t know. Arin doesn’t care. Dan’s hair is in his face and Dan’s bare chest is pressed against his own and nothing else matters, not as long as this moment lasts. Arin turns his face so his nose is pushed into Dan’s neck and just breathes. He can feel Dan’s pulse, quick and strong beneath his pale skin. 

They stay like that until Dan loosens his grip and clumsily pushes Arin away to arms’ length. Arin feels the weight of Dan’s gaze, sees the mix of exasperation and warmth and maybe a little bit of relief on his face beneath the caution. And fuck it, this is his last chance. Arin seizes it.

“I love you. ” This time his voice doesn’t crack. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but fuck, I swear I’ll never pull something that stupid again. I’ll do whatever it takes to make up for what I’ve done, if it takes the rest of my fucking life.” He takes a breath and asks, with finality, “Can you forgive me?”

Dan doesn’t respond immediately. He’s not taking the question lightly, and Arin’s grateful. Even if he’s trying his hardest not to shit himself as he watches his fate being decided right before his eyes.

But when Dan finally nods, the victory quashes all of Arin’s anxiety and heartbreak in an instant. “I forgive you,” Dan says, and then, under his breath, finishes with “Fucking doofus.”

Arin is a doofus. He’s an idiot and he’s a shitty friend and he’s all the words Brent and Brian and the others will call him when he talks to them in turn. But with Dan on his side, everything is going to be okay. 

“So what happens now?” Dan asks, like Arin has all the answers. 

“I don’t know. Pick up the pieces and move on, I guess.”

“Are you just gonna come back to work like nothing happened?”

“Um,” Arin winces. “I’m not sure that will be possible. I’ll have to talk to everybody. Maybe call a meeting.”

Dan nods. “I could help with that. I could be there.”

“Thanks,” Arin says gratefully. “I could use all the help I can get. I’m pretty sure Brent’s going to like, put me over his knee and spank me.”

Dan’s laugh is bright and sudden and loud. “I um, I guess I need to be there for that, right?” Some of the exhaustion is gone and colour is returning to his face. He looks around as if he’d just realized where they were. “So um, maybe you should come inside?”

“I’d like that.”

“And maybe I should put some clothes on.” Dan looks down at his unbuttoned shirt and uses his hands to pull it closed. 

“Or I could take some off to make you feel more comfortable.”

The lecherous joke is out before Arin can reel it in, but to his relief Dan laughs and says _“Arin”_ in that mock-scandalized way that doesn’t fully hide that he’s secretly pleased and amused. “I, um, just kinda pulled on whatever was lying on the floor.”

Arin follows him into his living room, where he’s directed to the couch as Dan runs upstairs. In Dan’s brief absence, Arin’s mind clears and he’s able to fully process what had just happened.

Dan had forgiven him. He had a second chance. Arin could do anything in the world as long as Dan was in his life, somewhere. Dan’s friendship wasn’t a consolation prize or a lacklustre version of their marriage in another world - it was a wonderful and beautiful thing all on its own, because Dan was a wonderful and beautiful person. Arin would just have to learn how to stop letting his carnal mind wander whenever he looked at Dan. It was as simple as that.

It’s still hard, though, to look around Dan’s house and see little bits and pieces of their other life. Books that once filled the big mahogany shelf in their living room were sitting on Dan’s coffee table - one dog-eared in the exact same way, another with the same blue bookmark sticking out. The tiny carved jade dinosaur. The stout cactus Holly had given him, the only houseplant even Dan couldn’t kill. Somewhere across time and space, these same items existed alongside Other-Arin and his marital bliss. 

_Fuck, it’s going to be hard to forget._

But maybe he wasn’t supposed to forget. Arin could keep those memories and know that the other Dan and Arin were happy together, probably forever. He could be happy for them. It was enough. It had to be enough.

Dan comes back downstairs in more traditional Dan attire - a band tee and ripped jeans. His hair is a little tamed, like maybe he’d wet it down a bit. Arin expects him to sit in the armchair across from the couch, fully ready for a serious face-to-face talk. But Dan surprises him by sitting next to him on the couch and reaching for the remote to turn on whatever show or movie he had paused.

Arin figures out within minutes that Dan was halfway through watching one of the _Lord of the Rings_ movies. He says, “Oh shit, it’s the fuckin’ hobbits.”

“That’s a dwarf and an elf, Arin,” Dan says exasperatedly. “God, I forgot you’ve never seen these.”

“Which one is this?”

“The second one. The Two Towers.”

“Why are they running?”

“They’re chasing Orcs.”

“Why?”

“To find the hobbits.”

“Oh.” Arin watches some more. Then, “Oh!”

“What?”

“It’s because the Orcs are taking the hobbits to Isengard, right?”

Dan stares at him for half a second, and then falls against him, laughing.

Arin doesn’t know how long the movie is. Time had ceased to exist. He doesn’t really know what the plot was or what the big battle had resolved, either. He just loves being here in Dan’s company, hearing Dan talk about the characters and the plot and all the things he loved about the movies, even if half of it goes right over Arin’s head.

When it’s over, Dan shuts off the TV but doesn’t get up from the couch. He presses himself a little closer to Arin.

“If you ever feel that low again,” he says quietly after a few moments of silence. “You fucking call me. Or call Ross, call whoever, call someone you love. Get help.”

“I know,” Arin mutters miserably. 

“You can stay with me. As long as you want. And maybe we need to work less. Maybe we need to just - hang out more. Every week.”

“Yeah?” Arin’s cautious that it’ll ever happen, with Dan’s crazy work schedule and social life, but the gesture is a clear sign of goodwill. “That sounds fun. You’re pretty busy, but it could work.”

“I’ll always make time for you, Arin.” Dan’s voice softens. “I’m never too busy if you need me, okay?”

“I - ” Arin’s throat sticks and he has to swallow over the sudden lump. “I appreciate that, Danny.”

“Do you wanna hang around for a bit longer?” Dan asks tentatively. “Like right now? I could use a break.”

“What kind of break?”

“We could go out for dinner.” Dan glances at his phone. “I mean, unless you already ate… ”

 _Fucking yes please._ But it’s too soon - Arin’s not ready. He would love to just try to hang out and be a normal person around Dan. A normal friend. But he’s still all worked up and too much is preying on his mind. He’s surprised to see how late it is already. He says, “I haven’t, but - maybe tomorrow? I still have to talk to Brent and some other people tonight, or tomorrow morning, whenever I can get a hold of everyone.”

“Oh, right. That makes sense. Yeah.” Dan runs a hand over his hair. Arin thinks he looks disappointed. “Tomorrow works.”

Arin thinks fast. Dan’s a priority, obviously, but his house and his life are kind of a mess right now and he really should do something about it. Laundry might be a good start. Arin’s down to one pair of clean boxers and they are currently on his person. 

“I’m still down for going out for dinner. I’ll make reservations.”

“Reservations? I was thinking, like, Cheesecake Factory.”

“Fuck that shit and their phone book menus. You ever been to Yamashiro?”

Dan tilts his head. “I know of it. Maybe I went there once, years ago? It’s kinda fancy. Don’t they have like, a dress code?”

“Yeah, you’re supposed to dress nice.” Arin shrugs. “Collared shirts, no shorts, no jeans.”

Dan looks down at himself, at his old ragged clothing, and laughs. “I guess. Yeah. I mean, sure.”

“You have nice clothes. I’ve seen ‘em.” Arin wonders if Dan has that same blue shirt. He’d looked so fucking good in it. “Do you not want to?”

“No, it’s not that,” Dan says quickly, and the tips of his ears go pink. “Just. I don’t think we’ve ever done that before. Dressing up and going out somewhere nice - it’s…”

Arin backtracks. Fuck, is he already forgetting his vow to appreciate Dan’s friendship? Does this sound too much like a date? Arin didn’t mean it to be a date. He just has nice memories of the place. He wants Dan to see the scenery, the amazing view of the entire downtown core. “Yeah, fine, Cheesecake Factory is cool too. I just thought, you know, Yamashiro has really good sushi boats. Big enough to feed both of us and then some. And it’s really pretty there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. They have outdoor tables around this garden with koi ponds and everything. It’s so high up on the hill that you can see all of downtown.”

“That does sound nice.”

Nice. What the hell does _nice_ mean? It doesn’t sound like a word Dan would use. Arin studies his face, and Dan gives him a quick grin and ducks his head like he’s embarrassed.

“Okay,” Dan says. “Sure. Let’s try Yamashiro.”

“I’ll call them tonight?” Arin ventures. “Make reservations for six or six-thirty?”

Dan nods, jerkily. “I can do six.”

“Cool.” Arin’s voice doesn’t betray how his heart is fucking galloping. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too.” There’s a very pregnant pause. “I missed spending time with you, Arin.” 

“I missed spending time with you, too.”

Dan leans against him and puts his head on Arin’s shoulder

It’s not a lie. This Dan is not a carbon copy of the one he’d pretended to be married to. This Dan belongs in this world, has shared experiences with the real Arin. And Arin missed the fuck out of him, even when he was in bed next to his alternate universe counterpart. Arin could happily stay here for an hour, just like this.

And then his stupid phone goes off, buzzing obnoxiously in his back pocket, and Dan pulls away to let Arin reach for it.

“Fuck,” Arin says when he sees who it is. 

Dan peers at the screen. “Brent?”

“Yeah.” Arin knows he’ll get shit on for it later, but he sends Brent straight to voicemail and shoves his phone back in his pocket. That discussion can wait. He doesn’t want Dan to hear Brent berating him for an hour.

“You think he’s pissed?” Dan ventures. 

“I know he’s pissed.” 

“You probably shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

“Yeah. Probably not smart.”

“You wanna get going, then? Or…you’re welcome to stay.” Dan’s eyes are hopeful. “You could go call Brent back, and I’ll put on the Fellowship of the Ring so we can start at the beginning.”

Arin wants nothing more than to stay, but - his phone is already buzzing again, and he can picture Brent’s face. He can also picture Hannah’s shock, Jory’s dumbfoundedness, Tucker’s disappointment, the accusing eyes that watched him yell at Dan and leave the office in a stupid tantrum. He shakes his head regretfully and says, “I should go.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right.” 

Dan follows him to the door, and when Arin turns to say goodbye, he gets surprised with a firm hug that actually knocks him back a step. Arin sucks in a breath and forgets what he was about to say and just hugs back.

“I’m so glad you came back,” Dan mumbles, squeezing his arms around Arin’s shoulders. “I’m so glad you changed your mind.”

Arin gives in and lets himself stroke Dan’s long hair. “I’m glad, too.”

Dan pulls back, shakily, looking at Arin with a tentative smile. “So, um, tomorrow, right? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Arin echoes. “I’ll see you then. I’ll text you.”

“See you,” Dan echoes, and their gazes meet and burn.


	17. Golden State

Arin tries on half a dozen shirts, frowning in the mirror as he notices all the way that this new body - his own body - bulges and strains at the fabric. He’d always struggled with his weight, so it’s not a new feeling, but it’s the first time he’s looked at himself and wondered how much Dan cared. Somehow, he doesn’t think so, but - still, it bothers him. 

The only consolation is that his hair is his own again. His bleached streak seems brighter than usual after weeks and weeks without it. Arin can’t stop looking in the mirror and touching it, winding it around his fingers, tilting his head to let the light shine through. It makes him feel a little better, like one of the missing pieces had clicked back into place.

He’d never been much for fashion, but he does have some nice things that Suzy had helped him pick out. He has dark grey slacks which seem to fit just fine, and a light pink button-down. Briefly, he wonders if Dan likes him in pink, and then remembers that it doesn’t matter. Dan didn’t care what he looked like; they were friends, not husbands. He was just dressing for the restaurant because he had to, and that was all. 

It’s not a date. Not a date, just dinner. Two friends, two colleagues, just having a nice dinner together.

Arin glances at his watch. Half an hour until he has to leave to pick Dan up, if they want to make their reservation. His heartbeat is drumming loud and steady, just quick enough to keep him on his toes. Fuck, he hopes he doesn’t sweat through his dress shirt. 

The minutes slip by as Arin paces, and before he knows it, he’s climbing in the car and sending a quick text to Dan.

_On my way, there in 15._

Everything else had been easy. Arin had gone into the office and managed to sit down with each of his employees to apologize to them one-on-one. With each apology came a well-deserved bonus. Most of them had tried to fight him on that one, waving away the extra cash with repeated reassurances that they had forgiven him. Arin had insisted. There was no other job in the world that would let him get away with the kind of behaviour he’d displayed, and they deserved twenty times what he could afford to pay. And he knew he couldn’t rebuild their trust with a check. But it was a start. Progress. He’d have to toe the line from now on, be the leader they needed him to be.

Arin pulls up next to the curb in front of Dan’s house. He reaches for his phone, but before he can send off another text, the front door opens and Dan steps out. 

Arin sucks in a breath at the sight of him. He wonders if he’ll ever get over the instinctive gut-jerking thought of _mine_ when he looks at Dan, or if he’ll just keep getting blindsided like this out of nowhere. 

Dan turns and gives him a dorky little wave before locking his front door and hurrying down the porch steps. Arin thinks he looks a little uncomfortable in his polo and slacks, a little out of place, but the overall effect is more than nice. 

“Hi,” Dan sings, as bright and sunshiny as usual, as he slips into the passenger seat. He does a bit of a double take at Arin’s outfit, and then glances down at himself almost questioningly. 

“Hey, Dan.” Arin takes a deep breath and gives him a smile that hopefully looks natural. “You look good.”

Dan rubs at his face. “Yeah? I, um, don’t really have a lot of business casual stuff. I just kinda threw this on.”

“I think it’s fine,” Arin tells him. _I think you look handsome as fuck._ Dan’s pants are maybe a little too tight, probably because he’d gained some muscle in the past year, and the glimpse of his ass as he’d gotten into the car had made him grip the steering wheel more tightly. “It’s just dinner, yeah?”

“Just dinner,” Dan echoes, and he looks out of his window as Arin pulls away from the curb. “You, um, look really nice, though. I like the pink shirt.”

“Thanks. Suzy got it for me.”

“Oh.” Dan, caught off guard, blinks twice and presses his lips together. He looks down at his lap, suddenly awkward, waiting for the shoe to drop.

Arin sighs. “Dan, it’s okay.”

Dan’s posture is stiff. He just says softly, “Okay”, but Arin can tell he doesn’t believe him.

At the next red light, Arin turns his head and gives Dan his full attention. “It’s okay to talk about her, alright? She’s going to have to come up sometimes.” 

“Right, yeah.” Dan tugs at his hair. “I get it. I mean, I don’t get it, but I can - you know.”

“Was there a sentence in there?” Arin asks lightly. “Or do you need to buy a vowel?”

“I’m just trying to stay in my own lane.” Dan shrugs, the movement oddly stiff.

Arin looks at him quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“What do I know about marriage and divorce, right? I’ve never dated anyone for more than a year.”

“Jesus fuck.” His own words keep coming back to bite him in the ass. Dan’s tone isn’t accusatory - he’s not trying to be defensive. That Dan had committed Arin’s cheap jab to memory makes him want to shrivel up. “I never meant it like that.”

“You’re right, though. None of us have gone through what you went through. I sure as hell haven’t.”

“So?”

“So I don‘t want to be insensitive. That’s all.”

Arin frowns. “Well. You generally aren’t.”

“Generally isn’t good enough.”

“Nobody’s perfect.” That’s lame, but true.

“Yeah, okay.” Dan frowns. “But I feel like I keep saying the wrong things, you know? I put my foot in my mouth a lot. And I don’t want to make you upset again. I want us to just - have a nice dinner together. I want us to be able to go back to how we were before.”

Jesus fuck, how much abuse could Arin’s heart take? “Fuck, Dan,” he says, his voice catching. “Nothing about what happened was your fault. You know that, right? You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just dead set on being a fucking douche to everyone around me.”

Dan doesn’t seem to be listening. “Maybe I should have just been happy that you came to record with me instead of making you feel guilty. Maybe instead of getting mad about you quitting Starbomb, I could have been more understanding. And I probably shouldn’t have brought it up again on your first day back in a while. That was the foot in mouth part. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Where’s this coming from? Starbomb is our job, dude. Asking me if I’m going to do my job is a fair fucking question.”

“There’s a time and place,” Dan says. “And maybe I could have reacted better when you mentioned wanting to quit Grumps.”

“I was being an asshole. You’re allowed to have feelings, too. The world doesn‘t revolve around me and my problems.”

“Well, yeah, I guess you’re right.” Dan’s chewing his lower lip. “But…I mean, you had a good reason to be upset. And I wasn’t exactly helpful.”

“You were, though.” Arin almost reaches out to touch Dan’s thigh, but he remembers at the last second and eats up resting his hand on the armrest to cover up his sudden weird movement. “You tried your best to help me and to be there for me. You told me to call you if I needed you. If I wasn’t such a dummy I would have taken you up on that.”

“If I was a better friend, maybe I wouldn’t have let things get so bad.”

“What?” He hadn’t even considered that Dan would feel guilty about Arin’s shitty life choices.

“Ross told me you weren’t doing well. That you were drinking a lot. Even before he told me, I think I suspected. I should have done more. I should have come over. I should have been there for you. Instead I just left you to deal with everything by yourself.”

Arin huffs. He flails one hand in the air while keeping the other on the wheel. “It’s not like you didn’t try to talk to me. I had my head all the way up my ass and didn’t let you help. I didn’t let anyone help. Fuck, I didn’t even tell anyone about the divorce until it was happening.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice anything was wrong. I see you almost every day.”

“I’m a good actor.”

“Maybe,” Dan says, his brow creasing, “or maybe I’m just really bad at taking care of the people I love.”

He looks so sad that Arin can hardly stand it. “How can you even - ” Arin cuts himself off to focus on the road. He’s getting worked up and he doesn’t want to do this while driving. At another red light, he slows to a stop and finishes his sentence. “It’s not your job to take care of me. There are some things I have to do on my own.”

“I know.”

“You did everything you could.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dan picks at the buttons on his shirt. “I just hate knowing that you were falling apart, and I was nowhere to be found.”

“I always knew where you were. I knew you’d do anything for me if I asked.”

“Still true, big cat.” Dan’s smile is soft and warm. “I’ll always be here. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

It’s all Arin can do to not reach across the seat and take Dan’s hand to squeeze it, like he did half a hundred times in the other world. Instead he just says thickly, “I appreciate that.”

“Good.”

“And I appreciate you being here now. With me. After all I did to you, I don’t deserve your time.”

“After all you did _for_ me, all these years, I think I can handle a few rough patches.”

“Rough patches,” Arin repeats, and almost laughs out loud. “Dude, that wasn’t a rough patch. That was a fucking hurricane.”

“You apologized already, though. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too. Even if you insist that I didn’t do anything.”

“Apology accepted,” Arin says, because he knows it’s pointless to convince Dan to stop feeling guilty otherwise. “On my end, at least. As for you, I think you’re being way too nice. I still don’t know if ‘I’m sorry’ cuts it.”

“Well,” Dan says, leaning all the way back in his seat comfortably, “tell you what. We have the rest of our lives for you to make it up to me.”

“Does picking up the bill today count towards that?”

“Depends,” Dan says, cheeky now in his relief as their banter starts to flow more naturally. “Am I allowed to order dessert?”

“I’ll do anything for my main man Dan.”

“Anything?” Dan repeats, and raises an eyebrow suggestively.

Arin’s feeling okay enough inside to appreciate the joke for what it is. “Fuck, dude, if you want a beej, all you have to do is ask.”

Dan’s burst of laughter is like music, and Arin’s face hurts from smiling.

**

Arin remembers the server who comes out with their drinks. He doesn’t remember her name, but he does recall the ruby highlights in her black hair, the way it’s wrapped in an elegant little twist at the back of her head. 

_Coincidence,_ Arin thinks, watching Dan smile at her and order an iced milk tea. But then it hits him that it’s not a coincidence at all. He’d been transported half a day ahead when the angel had thrown him into Wonderland. Now, this was his second day home. This is the same day, practically the same time, that he’d come here to celebrate with Dan in the other world.

It’s their anniversary, again.

Arin gets an odd, fluttery feeling when he thinks about how they could be here too. He remembers the angel, reaching out and brushing the air with his fingertips, claiming to have just touched a thousand other dimensions. If Arin reached out, could he do the same? He doesn’t remember which table they’d been sitting at, or if it would be the same one this time around. He does remember the way the soft lantern lights reflected off Dan’s warm eyes in little twinkly points.

“What are you thinking so hard about?”

That jolts him too. The past and the present swirl together, blurring in Arin’s mind. For a moment it’s like he’s knocked out of reality. Dan’s head tilts questioningly. Arin ends up scrambling for an answer and comes up with, “I’m just wondering what I should order.”

“Me, too. Everything looks so good.” Dan’s eyes stick to Arin for a moment before gazing out over the lavish courtyard, with its bubbling koi ponds and flowers bursting with colour so bright they seemed to bleed into the air around them. “It’s beautiful here.”

“I know. I love this place.”

“You’ve been here before?” Dan only hesitates for a second. “With Suzy?”

“Yeah, a few times. We’d always fill up on the starters and then just go ham on the sushi menu.” 

Dan trails one long finger down the starters on the menu.

“No chiccy fingers here,” Arin says, smiling. “Sorry.”

Dan makes a face. “Sometimes I have a refined palate, thank you.”

“Yeah, right. You think Islands is a good place to eat.”

“Oh,” Dan raises an eyebrow. “Big talk coming from the corporate whore for Wendy’s.”

Arin chokes on his laugh and Dan grins with pride.

“Truce,” Arin says. “We both sometimes eat garbage and that’s okay.”

“Dude,” Dan taps the menu. “I can’t decide. I literally want one of every sushi and sashimi piece on here.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I can’t eat a hundred sushis, Arin,” Dan says, and he sounds too goddamn adorable to be real.

“We can just split a sushi boat. Chef’s choice.”

“It says it serves four people. Think we can finish it? This is like, one of those authentic places where it’s rude to ask for a doggy bag, right?”

“Fuck yeah we can finish it.” Arin pats his stomach. “I didn’t get this by eating the recommended serving size.”

Dan squints at him. “What was that rule you had? About not making self-deprecating jokes about your weight?”

“That was Suzy’s rule.”

“Yeah, well.” Dan taps his fingers on the table. “She’s smart. You should probably keep taking her advice.”

Arin nods slowly. “Good point. It would probably help. Self-love and self-care and all that important shit.”

“If it helps, I think you look handsome.” Dan leans forward, bony elbows on the table and his chin resting on his knuckles. Arin makes the mistake of meeting his eyes and gets caught in them for too long. 

“It does help.” Arin’s heart is pounding. He doesn’t know if Dan’s just being nice. Whatever he looks like, he certainly doesn’t hold a candle to Dan. Dan looks like a painting, with the soft reddish-orange light gently blurring the roughness of his frizzy hair and turning his eyes from brown to amber. 

Arin remembers to stop staring. Eventually. He clears his throat and closes his menu quickly. Dan finally looks up, blinking as if dazed, and says, “Oh yeah, right” as he follows suit. It might just be the lighting but Arin swears Dan’s face is pinker than before.

After they order, Arin says abruptly, “I should call Suzy tonight, just to check in.”

“Might be a good idea. Is she doing okay?”

“She’s alright. She’s enjoying spending time with her family.”

“You think she’ll stay in Florida?” Dan asks tentatively. “Like, for good?”

Arin just shrugs. He can’t personally see it, but - in the other universe, she had never left. He suddenly wonders who the father of other-Suzy’s baby is. He wonders if he lives in Florida. _Maybe Suzy has an angel too, to point her in his direction._

The thought makes his belly squirm a little bit, but the feeling quickly passes. He’s okay with the idea. Surprisingly okay.

Arin stirs his drink with the straw. “Probably for a few years, unless she finds work elsewhere. She likes New York, and she really likes Seattle and Portland. So…who knows?”

“I’ll miss her a lot,” Dan says, eyes downcast. “I already do.” And then he quickly adds, “That’s probably dumb, I’m sure it doesn’t compare.”

“You’re allowed to miss her. She probably misses you too.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh hell yeah, she loves you.” Her voice is imprinted on his mind, a part of him forever. She whispers to him from years past. _I won’t be mad, Arin. I love him too. Just ask him, you’ll be surprised._

“I haven’t called her or anything.” Dan looks sad. “I wasn’t sure if it was weird. I want to, though.”

“You should. I bet she’d like to hear from you.”

“Maybe I will. I wanna know that she’s okay.”

“She’s strong as fuck. She’ll be okay.” 

“You both will.” Dan surprises Arin by reaching over the table to brush their fingers together. “You’re strong too.”

It had taken an actual magical being to drag him out of his own misery. Arin can’t help but laugh.

“Hey,” Dan protests. “I mean it, you dick. I can’t believe how fast you got everything under control.”

Arin doesn’t deserve Dan’s admiration. He’s looking at Arin like he’s some sort of self-care master, and he’ll never know that it’s all a lie. Arin has to say something, anything. “I guess I forgot, for a while, that Suzy wasn’t my world. You lose perspective when you’re married.”

“Right,” Dan nods. “I mean, I don’t know, but I can imagine.”

“It’s hard to go from having someone beside you every night for years, having them wake up with you every morning, to just - nothing. Nobody. Night after night, it’s all the same. And there’s so many things I never realized I’d miss. All the little things she’d do for me, they just became a part of my life. Like, she’d always remember to get a water bottle from the fridge to keep on my side of the bed, because she knew I’d forget nine times out of ten and then have to go all the way downstairs at like, three AM. And then in the mornings I don’t talk, at all. The house is so quiet, it’s weird. There’s nobody there. I don’t talk to anyone until I get into work.”

Dan absorbs all of this quietly. His hand is still resting against Arin’s on the table. Maybe he’d forgotten it was there.

“I should start coming over again in the mornings,” he reflects.

“What, to work out?” Arin wonders if he still has their old personal trainer’s number. On the heels of that thought comes an image of Dan in his spandex shorts and one of his many shabby tank tops, stretching his long limbs and straining to hold the various poses he was instructed to do. Fuck, he would never be able to get through a workout with Dan again without popping an embarrassingly obvious boner.

“Sure, maybe.” Dan shrugs. “Or we could just hang out. We could go out for breakfast together, or go into work early and just make it there. Chill out in the lounge, maybe play some video games just for fun.”

Arin almost wants to ask if this is a pity offer. Thankfully, he holds his tongue. He’s not going to refuse help when help is offered. Not anymore. Because if his other self had taught him anything, it was that being around Dan made him a better man.

“Dude, that sounds awesome. I’d love that.”

“Me, too,” Dan says, with a bit of a catch in his voice. “Arin, I’ve really missed you.”

“Where did I go?”

“I mean, the old you. Being here with you, talking to you again - it’s like having you come back from vacation, but like. A really shitty vacation.”

 _You don’t know how true that is._ “I missed you too, Danny. I can’t believe I told you that I didn’t want to work with you anymore. I can’t believe I just left you there the other day. Being with you now feels like - fuck, it’s like coming home.”

Dan’s suddenly dabbing his eyes with the sleeve of his good shirt. “Fuck,” he says thickly. “I don’t want to cry in public, man.”

“Who gives a shit? Let it out. Nobody’s gonna care.”

Dan laughs shakily. “Yeah, they’ll probably just think you proposed, or something.”

Arin blanches but Dan doesn’t seem to notice. He looks around and yeah, this place is full of nothing but couples. The ambiance does come across as more romantic than anything else. Maybe during the day, people would come here for workplace functions or something, but at this hour, everything seems a bit like a fairy-tale. 

A fleeting thought crosses his brain. He never did learn how Other-Arin had proposed. Thinking of what Dan’s reaction must have been like almost takes the breath from his chest. He had probably teared up. It would have taken all of Other-Arin’s composure not to do the same, to get the question out after Dan had seen the little box with the ring nestled in velvet.

Because of course he was going to say yes. How could Other-Arin ever doubt that, with the way Dan looked at him?

_It took me a while to accept it, but I knew there was something special about you since the day we met._

Their food comes, and Arin suddenly realizes that he hasn’t eaten since he’d forced a smoothie down in the morning. His stomach had been so tight with nerves all day that he hadn’t been able to handle lunch.

The heavy stuff could wait. For now, Arin resolves to have the nice dinner that Dan wanted.

Everything is wonderful. They demolish the sushi boat with gusto as Arin tells Dan about some of the ideas he had for Gameoverse, how he was hoping to have a good long brainstorming session with Ross soon. Dan, in turn, tells Arin about his upcoming tour with Brian and all the new projects they had going on.

“We wrote a butt load of lyrics, just going back and forth with our notes all night,” Dan says brightly, and then pauses. “When Brian left I tried writing more. I felt like I had a lot of creative juices flowing but everything that was coming out was just…I don’t know what it was, but it wasn’t NSP.”

“What was it?”

“Almost like - poetry, I guess.” Dan looks embarrassed. “Like real song lyrics. Songs that aren’t about boners and dinosaurs. I don’t know what I’d ever do with them, but I read them over this morning and they’re…not bad.”

“I bet they’re awesome. Will you show me sometime?”

Dan reddens. “I - um. Maybe? They’re kinda rough, and I’d have to, go over them and maybe make some changes, and, you know.”

“Maybe I could help. What was the song about?”

Dan’s mouth opens but nothing comes out. He meets Arin’s gaze. Arin feels a jolt of something go through him and it’s like Dan feels it too.

“I guess…” Dan starts slowly, like he’s just figuring it out now. “I guess they’re about someone I love.”

The ground feels shaky under Arin’s feet. His hand is shaking too, when he goes to reach for his drink. Something’s happening to him. Another piece has clicked into place and there’s just one more empty space left.

Someone comes to take away their empty dishes, and their server places their desserts in front of them instead. Arin’s cake comes with a fortune cookie. His hand shakes harder as he breaks it open.

 _Don’t make me come down there again._

Arin catches his smile before Dan sees. He slips the paper into his pocket and watches Dan eat his mochi ice cream, wondering.

“Dan,” he says when they’re done. His heart is in his throat and he’s sweating into his dress shirt but he manages to sound calm. “There’s something I want to show you before we go home.”

**

The garden walkway outside is as picturesque as it had been the last time he’d been here, in another timeline, another dimension. This time, though, instead of the sky being dark, there’s a golden sliver of sun left nestled between two hills. 

“You can see half the city from here,” Dan says admiringly. He places his hands on the wooden rail and gazes down. “Arin, come look from here.”

Arin comes up beside him, to stare down at the lush gardens, and beyond them, the steep rocky slope and the cityscape below. The longer he stares, the more vertigo he feels, until he has to lean back with his hands white-knuckled on the railing. “Whoa.”

“You okay?”

“I think so.” Arin makes himself let go. He shoves his hands into his pockets instead.

“You dropped something,” Dan says, and then, “Oh! It’s a flower.” He bends to pick it up. 

Arin follows the length of his arm, sees his long fingers outstretched, gently plucking the pink swamp rose from the wooden boardwalk.

 _I didn’t put that in my pocket._ Arin sucks in a sharp breath. He’d kept the rose, had been wondering if he should look up how to press it to keep it forever. It was upstairs on his dresser the last time he saw it. And now it’s in the palm of Dan’s hand. Dan’s looking at it strangely.

“Was this in your pocket?” 

“I guess so.”

“It’s pretty,” Dan says haltingly. “Did you just find it out here?” He brings it up to his nose to smell it. His eyes close and the rose petals flutter from the touch of his breath. Arin feels a pang in his heart at the simple beauty of the scene before him.

“I must have just picked it up somewhere,” Arin lies. “You can have it.” He kind of hopes that Dan won’t just toss it on the ground, even though most people wouldn’t keep a flower in the pocket of their best clothes.

When Dan opens his eyes, he catches Arin’s gaze. “Pink roses are for friendship, right?” Dan says quietly, and his gaze lingers.

“Maybe,” Arin says, and then, out of nowhere, “They were the only flower allowed to bloom in Jerusalem.”

Dan gives him a startled look. “How did you know that?”

“Maybe you told me.”

“When did I tell you that?”

Arin shrugs and forces his face to stay neutral. “I don’t remember. Is it true, though?”

“I think so. It’s in the Talmud, anyway.” Dan smiles at him, soft, his eyes crinkled against the glare of the sun. Then he reaches out and tucks the flower behind Arin’s ear. The tingle of his fingertips on his skin brings Arin another rush of déjà vu. Arin takes a shaky breath and something changes on Dan’s face. He looks suddenly shy, unsure of himself, and he pulls his hand back to his side a little too fast.

It’s unusual. Dan is many things, but shy is normally not one of them. Less bold than Arin, sure. But shy?

_You’re pretty intimidating._

Something else clicks, and Arin swallows against his dry throat. He can take the hint from above. He just hopes his trust isn’t misplaced. “Dan, I think I’ve been an idiot for a long time.”

That catches Dan off guard, but he cracks a smile. “Okay, you were pretty stupid, Arin, but I already said I forgive you.”

“Yeah, but.” Arin swallows again. “I think, maybe, I might do one more stupid thing.”

Dan’s still smiling. “What?”

Arin’s head is spinning in circles, so fast he feels like he might throw up or faint. He feels like he’s teetering on the edge of a massive precipice. What he did now would change his life forever. That was a dumb way to think, but fuck, he can’t help it. The urgency buzzes in his veins like a thousand bees.

Arin takes a breath and steps forward. It’s the most natural feeling in the world to put one of his hands on Dan’s waist. He thinks he feels Dan lean into him, just the barest amount. Dan’s eyes widen and the smile slides off his face, but he’s not pulling away, not even when Arin leans in, not even when Arin presses his mouth to Dan’s.

Time slows to a stop and Arin is frozen in place. Arin feels each thump of his heart and can count seconds between them. He has time to think _holy shit_ and then, when Dan doesn’t move, doesn’t respond, he has time for a moment of panic. But just before Arin wrenches himself away to blurt out an apology, he feels Dan’s hand cup the back of his head, fingers in Arin’s hair, and he’s kissing Arin back.

When they part, neither of them can speak for a long moment.

“Arin,” Dan says hoarsely. “That…you just…we just…did that just happen?”

Arin’s still terrified. Maybe not as much. Dan’s not running away or freaking out. “Yeah. Is that…was that okay?”

“You kissed me.”

“Yeah,” he says again. Dan looks like he’s groping for words, but his eyes are still fixated on Arin’s mouth, and he can’t seem to find them. Arin can be the brave one here, like he was in the other world. “Do you want me to do it again?”

Dan falters. “This…this isn’t a joke, is it? Because, Arin, I…”

“I wouldn’t joke about this. Dan, I…I love you.” 

He sees his words sink in as Dan’s eyes widen. 

“Fuck, Arin,” he says shakily, and his eyes slip shut. “Yes.”

Arin kisses him again, and this time the fear is gone. Dan tastes like all the things he’d known and lost, like all the good times they’d had together, and it was so good, so _right._ With a rush of feeling deep in his chest, Arin remembers in vivid detail every thought he’d pushed down, every twinge he’d felt in his heart when he looked at Dan, every time Suzy’s eyes were bright with the truth that Arin couldn’t face. 

The kiss deepens and a thousand colours burst behind Arin’s eyelids when Dan’s hand tightens in his hair and Dan’s tongue tentatively touches his own. Somewhere in the back of Arin’s mind he remembers that they’re in a semi-public place, but it’s not until he hears the faint murmur of voices from the restaurant doors that he breaks the kiss and pulls Dan against him for a hug instead. 

“Arin,” Dan whispers into his hair, clearly shaken. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

The flood of feelings turns into a quiet sort of elation and Arin’s grinning like an idiot.  
“I can’t believe it’s not butter,” Arin whispers back.

Dan rears his head back to give him a startled look before bursting into laughter that resonates through Arin’s chest. 

“Seriously,” he giggles when he can get a breath in. “Arin, this is - this is huge, okay, you can’t just make me laugh right now.”

“I can’t help it. I love hearing you laugh.” Arin kisses his eyebrow. “I love everything about you.”

“How long?” Dan demands faintly. “Where is this coming from?”

“Years. Maybe since I met you.”

“Suzy didn’t…she never knew?”

“Suzy always knew,” Arin says. “It was me that wasn’t able to wrap my head around it.”

“She knew and she didn’t hate me?” Dan asks, wondrous.

“She’s better than that. She loved me. Loves me,” Arin corrects, because he knows she does and always will. 

“I thought she would,” Dan says quietly. “I thought you both would. I thought I was such a horrible person, thinking about someone who was in such an amazing marriage…” His eyes sparkle faintly in the dying light.

Arin lays his hand over Dan’s on the railing. “How long?”

“Since I fucking met you,” Dan chokes. “I didn’t know at first either. I didn’t ever think I could ever be - you know - ”

“Not heterosexual?”

Dan nods. “You know what it was like for me, growing up…I never personally hated anybody, but, being gay, to some of my friends and some of my conservative family, it was just….something I could never be a part of, I thought. I know that’s cowardly and wrong, but - ”

“I get it. I totally get it. It’s okay.”

“I’ve changed,” Dan says. “Mostly because of you. You showed me that it didn’t make you any less of a man, to like another guy like that.”

There were so many goddamn parallels, jesus. 

“ I still don’t know what I’m doing. I still don’t know what this all means, or what I am.”

“You’re Dan,” Arin tells him. “Just Dan. And that’s enough.”

“I guess it’ll have to be.” Dan laughs, and boldly takes Arin’s hand. “But what happens now?”

“I don’t know,” Arin admits. “But I do know I can’t live without you. And I want to try this. Whatever this is.”

“You want to try…dating?” Dan asks tentatively. 

“We’ll take it slow. Maybe just see where things go. I want a chance to show you how much you mean to me. Fuck, I don’t even know where to start, and it would take so long, but - ”

Dan squeezes his hand. “There’s time,” he says. “I always have time for you. We have the rest of our lives to figure this out.”

“The rest of our lives,” Arin repeats, and wonders what lies ahead. He’d thought he’d known what his life would look like the day he’d married Suzy. He thought he could see the road of his life stretching in a straight line to the horizon. Now there’s a fork in the road, and Arin’s made the turn but doesn’t know where he’s going.

But somehow, he knows he’ll end up right where he belongs.


End file.
